crept to the bed,
thinkin' I should see his dead body. But he wasn't there at all. I felt
a little bothered you'd better believe."

"Well," said the doctor, turning to me with a smile, "what do you think
now?"

"I don't know what to think," said I.

"Then I'll help you," said he.

"So sayin', he took me to the winder, and what do you think I see? As
sure as I'm alive, there was the old man in the back yard, a squattin'
down and pickin' up chips."

"And is he still living?"

"Yes, or he was when I come along last. The doctor's been dead these
ten years. He told me old Keziah would outlive him, but I didn't believe
him. I shouldn't be surprised if he lived forever."

Paul listened with amused interest to this and other stories with which
his companion beguiled the way. They served to divert his mind from
the realities of his condition, and the uncertainty which hung over his
worldly prospects.

XII.

ON THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY.

"If you're in no great hurry to go to New York," said the pedler, "I
should like to have you stay with me for a day or two. I live about
twenty-five miles from here, straight ahead, so it will be on your way.
I always manage to get home by Saturday night if it is any way possible.
It doesn't seem comfortable to be away Sunday. As to-day is Friday, I
shall get there to-morrow. So you can lie over a day and rest yourself."

Paul felt grateful for this unexpected invitation. It lifted quite a
load from his mind, since, as the day declined, certain anxious thoughts
as to where he should find shelter, had obtruded themselves. Even now,
the same trouble would be experienced on Monday night, but it is the
characteristic of youth to pay little regard to anticipated difficulties
as long as the present is provided for.

It must not be supposed that the pedler neglected his business on
account of his companion. On the road he had been traveling the houses
were few and far between. He had, therefore, but few calls to make.
Paul remarked, however, that when he did call he seldom failed to sell
something.

"Yes," said Mr. Stubbs, on being interrogated, "I make it a p'int to
sell something, if it's no more than a tin dipper. I find some hard
cases sometimes, and sometimes I have to give it up altogether. I can't
quite come up to a friend of mine, Daniel Watson, who used to be in
the same line of business. I never knew him to stop at a place without
selling something. He had a good deal