to hope, his
heart sank.

"I'll soon be better, I think. Are you there, Dawvid? You ken I
couldna go and stand before the Lord and tell Him that you hadna
forgiven your enemy."

"She is wandering," whispered Katie's mother.

"No; I'm no wandering, but whiles I feel--as if I were slipping awa'--
and you'll give me your hand, Dawvid, and that will keep me back. Ay.
That will do," and her eyes closed again.

Katie followed her mother from the room.

"It is not far away now."

"Mother, don't say it. She is not going to die. Oh, mother! mother!
Surely God is not going to take her from us yet. No. I'm not going to
cry; I havena time," said Katie. "And, mother, she says it herself, and
I don't think she is going to die. Oh, if Miss Betsey could have been
here to-night!"

Katie resolutely put away her tears and her fears, and prepared for a
night of watching. First, she made her mother lie down with a warm
wrapper on her, so that she might be ready to come at any moment. Then
she sent the bairns to their beds, and wished that Davie would come
home. Then she remembered, with a pang of remorse, that her grandfather
had not had his supper, and she got his accustomed bowl of bread and
milk, and carried it into the room. Neither of them had moved, and
stooping and listening, it seemed to Katie that her grandmother was
sleeping naturally and sweetly. Her grandfather shook his head at the
sight of the food.

"You must take it, grandfather," said Katie in a whisper.

She put the bowl on a chair, and knelt down beside him.

"You need not move," she said softly, and she fed him as he had often
fed her when she was a little child.

"My good Katie!" said he, but it would not have been well for him to try
to say more.

Davie came in before the supper was over. Katie nodded cheerfully, but
did not speak till they were both in the kitchen.

"Well?" said Davie.

"She is no worse. I think she seems better. She has eaten a wee bit of
bread, but mother says you cannot always tell by that. We must just
wait."

It was a long and anxious night to these two. It was well that grannie
should sleep, but in her utter weakness it was also necessary that she
should have nourishment often. She had grown sick of the sight of
everything in the way of food, and she had had her choice of whatever
the best housewives of Gershom could supply. For days she had only
taken a little milk, and to-night she seemed to take it wi