I die. He is coming home in
a day or two."

But Abel delayed a week, at his master's request, that he might help
pull a field of mangels, and Mr. Churchouse never saw him again.

During his last days Estelle spent much time with him. He seldom
mentioned any other person but himself. He wandered in a disjointed
fashion over the past and mixed his recollections with his dreams. He
remembered jests and sometimes uttered them, then laughed; but often he
laughed to himself without giving any reason for his amusement.

He was thoughtful and apologetic. Indeed, when he looked up into any
face, he always said, "I mourn to give you so much trouble." Latterly he
confused his visitors, but kept Estelle and Sabina clear in his mind. He
fancied that they had quarrelled and was always seeking to reconcile
them. Every morning he appeared anxious and distressed until they stood
by him together and declared that they were the best of friends. Then he
became tranquil.

"That being so," he said, "I shall depart in peace."

Estelle relieved the professional nurse and would read, talk, or listen,
as he wished. He spoke disjointedly one day and wove reality and
imagination together.

"Much good marble is wasted on graves," he declared. "But it doesn't
bring the dead to life. Do you believe in the resurrection of the body,
Estelle? I hope you find it easy. That is one of the things I never was
honestly able to say I had grasped. Reason will fight against the nobler
tyranny of faith. The old soul in a glorified body--yet the same body,
you understand. We shan't all be in one pattern in heaven. We shall
preserve our individuality; and yet I deprecate passing eternity in this
tabernacle. Improvements may be counted upon, I think. The art of the
Divine Potter can doubtless make beautiful the humblest and the most
homely vessel."

"Nobody who loves you would have you changed," she assured him.

Then his mind wandered away and he smiled.

"I listened to a street preacher once--long, long ago when I was
young--and he said that the road to everlasting destruction was lined
with women and gin shops. Upon which a sailor-man, who listened to him,
shouted out, 'Oh death, where is thy sting?' The meeting dissolved in a
very tornado of laughter. Sailors have a great sense of humour. It can
take the place of a fire on a cold day. One touch of humour makes the
whole world kin. If you have a baby, teach it to laugh as well as to
walk. But I think y