A STRANGER.

On the day of the funeral, the sun came up and flashed over the grey
chill earth, with a spring-like warmth and radiance, and crept through
the open windows with a broad glad smile, as though no sorrow darkened
the home and hushed the merry voices.

Many times in these three days of crushing sorrow, when heart and hand
seemed powerless to act, had Ernestine thought in a vague, wondering
way, of her words: "I wonder what Olive is good for, she is no comfort
to any one." Why, she herself, shivering and white, clung to her; Bea
went to her; Mrs. Dering turned to them all for comfort, but to Olive
for help and advice; Huldah came to her for orders; callers with offers
of flowers and help saw her, and all said when questioned; "ask Olive,
she can tell you;" "where is Olive?" "Olive knows all about it, don't
disturb mama;" and so for once, home without Olive, would have known its
greatest need.

On the evening of that last day, when all the sorrowful farewells were
over, and the grief stricken family had returned to their saddened
home; there came a stranger into Canfield, and after inquiring the way,
stalked briskly out to the Dering house. All the heavy foliage being
gone, Jean saw him coming through the gate, and turned from the window.

"Some one is coming, Olive," and Olive reached the door, just as the
stranger gave a vain pull at the muffled bell. He was a strange, odd
looking old gentleman, erect as a picket, scrupulously dressed, and
looking at her with fierce grey eyes from under the bushiest lashes.

"Is Mrs. Dering in?" he inquired with a tap of his cane.

"Yes, sir, but----,"

"Well, that's all I want to know now, I'll ask the rest after I get in,"
and emphasizing the words with another sharp tap of his cane, in he
walked.

"But, sir, my mother cannot see you to-night," said Olive, somewhat
startled, but speaking with decision, and still holding the door open.

"Tut, tut, tut! I haven't come three hundred miles to be turned out into
the night. Come, come, young woman, lead the way to where there's a fire
and light, then take this card to your mother, and if she won't see me,
give me a good comfortable bed, and I'll wait 'till morning for her."

Olive began to feel as though she had little to say in the matter,
besides, he stamped his cane and looked at her so fiercely, that she
thought he might be an escaped lunatic, and perhaps she had better humor
him. So she led the way into the si