h a
pleasant fleeting reminiscence. "Come mighty nigh dyin', though--skeered
me, fur a fack. Powerful tight squeak he had!"

All at once his eyes, glancing over his shoulder, lighted on Bayne, who
had just come to call on the ladies and now stood at the bottom of the
flight of the terrace steps. Clenk drew back with an obvious shock. "Why,
look-a-hyar, _you_ ain't Mr. Briscoe!" he exclaimed insistently, as with
a desire to reassure himself. His eyes large, light, distended, were
starting out of his head. His jaw quivered violently. The grimy,
claw-like hand he extended shook as with a palsy.

When together, Briscoe and Bayne had scant facial resemblance; but apart,
that stamp of consanguinity might easily recall for each the face of the
other. Bayne, with his wonted subtlety of divination, replied at once,
"No, but Mr. Briscoe was my cousin."

"Oh, ho--oh, ho--I see," the old man said, tractable and easily
convinced. "I know--Lawd! I got reason ter know that Briscoe's dead. I
war afeared o' seein' su'thin' oncommon--his harnt, or some sech. The
idee shuk me powerful. I hev had a fever lately. Lemme sit
down--I--I--can't stand up. I been hevin' a misery lately in my
breast-bone--oh!"--he waved his hand in the air with a pathetic, grasping
gesture--"me breath is gone--me breath, me breath----"

He sank down on an iron bench at one side on the velvety turf and feebly
gasped.

"I'll get some brandy," Gladys said in a low tone to Lillian, and sped
swiftly up the steps toward the house.

Suddenly Clenk partially lifted himself and dived into one of the pockets
of his loose coat. He brought up a little red shoe, all tarnished and
tobacco-stained, and held it out to Lillian with a faint and flickering
smile of bestowal, certain of gratitude as well as recognition. "Does
you-uns know that leetle foot?"

Lillian swayed for a moment as if she might fall. Then, with a piercing
shriek, she darted forward and seized it from his shaking grasp. She held
it up to the light, and as Gladys returned, herself bearing the tray with
the glass and decanter, Lillian convulsively clutched her arm and,
speechless and trembling, pointed to the name in tarnished gilt on the
inside of the sole--her own shoemaker, who had constructed the delicate
little hand-sewed slipper!

"Where is he now--where is this child?" Bayne demanded precipitately, his
own breath short, his pulses beating in his temples till the veins seemed
near bursting.

"I