her to witness this paper.

"Well," said pertinacious Mrs. Ferret, "I'll have to know what is in
it, won't I?"

"No, you only want to know that this is Mrs. Plausaby's signature," and
Isa placed her fingers over the paper in such a way that Mrs. Ferret
could not read it.

"Did you sign this, Mrs. Plausaby?"

The sick woman said she did.

"Do you know what is in it?"

"Yes, but--but it's a secret."

"Did you sign it of your own free will, or did Mr. Plausaby make you?"

"Mr. Plausaby! Oh! don't tell him about it. He'll make such an awful
fuss! But it's true."

Thus satisfied that it was not a case of domestic despotism, Mrs. Ferret
wrote her peculiar signature, and made a private mark besides.

And later in the evening Mrs. Plausaby asked Isa to send word to that
nice-looking young woman that Albert loved so much. She said she
supposed he must feel bad about her. She wanted Isa to tell her all
about it. "But not till I'm dead," she added. "Do you think people know
what people say about them after they're dead? And, Isa, when I'm laid
out let me wear my blue merino dress, and do my hair up nice, and put a
bunch of roses in my hand. I wish Plausaby had got that changeable silk.
It would have been better than the blue merino. But you know best. Only
don't forget to tell Albert's girl that he did not do it. But explain it
all so she won't think I'm a--that I did it a-purpose, you know. I
didn't mean to. What makes you look at me that way? Oh, dear! Isa, you
won't ever love me any more!"

But Isa quieted her by putting her arms around her neck in a way that
made the poor woman cry, and say, "That's just the way Katy used to do.
When I die, Katy'll love me all the same. Won't she? Katy always did love
a body so." Perhaps she felt that Isabel's love was not like Katy's. For
pity is not love, and even Mrs. Plausaby could hardly avoid
distinguishing the spontaneous affection of Katy from this demonstration
of Isa's, which must have cost her some exertion.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

DEATH.

Mrs. Plausaby grew more feeble. Her remorse and her feeling of the dire
necessity for confessing her sin had sustained her hitherto. But now her
duty was done, she had no longer any mental stimulant. In spite of Isa's
devoted and ingenious kindness, the sensitive vanity of Mrs. Plausaby
detected in every motion evidence that Isa thought of her as a thief.
She somehow got a notion that Mrs. Ferret knew all about it also, and
fr