it together."

A sharp pang went to Jack's heart. He pressed the limp hand to his lips,
and gazed into the face that had changed in some indescribable way. Then
Jane came with a tempting breakfast, and fed her with wonderful
gentleness, it seemed to him.

He went out, and brought Maverick back with him.

"It is a general breaking-up of nature," said the doctor with a tender
gravity. "Nothing can be done, unless she should suffer; but I do not
think she will. It is the way lives ought to end oftener. Give her
whatever she will take; and keep cheerful, all of you. After all, it is
only a little journey."

"Where?" the young eyes asked as they met each other in solemn mood.

Jack scarcely left her. She liked to open her eyes, and find him sitting
there, when she would smile faintly, and murmur a few words. Sylvie and
Miss Barry were the only visitors admitted to her room. They used to
read out of "Pilgrim's Progress," the book she had loved so well, and
occasionally they sang some sweet old hymn.

"Jack," she said once, "you will find everything in my old box there in
the bureau. It was my mother's, and came across the sea with me. You
have been a good lad. You took your father's place with me, and you must
never regret that you staid here to make an old woman happy. You have
been a good lad--a good--little lad"-- And her mind wandered to other
years.

Just growing gradually weaker, and falling asleep peacefully. A long,
well-spent life, and a death to remember and desire.

They buried her in Yerbury churchyard, and the townspeople turned out to
do her honor. Jack thought of another death, and the almost solitary
state of the funeral.

How good it was that they had Jane Morgan now! She carried them right
along.

Jack opened the brass-bound box, still fragrant with its sandal-wood
lining. Some old letters, the trinkets she had saved from her poverty,
and a will bequeathing her all, in government bonds, to Jack.

There was nearly seven thousand dollars. With his own little savings he
felt quite rich.

"Jack," said his mother, "all these years you have waited patiently, and
put by your own dreams. Do not think that I did not notice the struggle.
It was very generous and kindly; and I am glad, for grandmother's sake,
that you staid. But now if you like we will go somewhere else, and make
a new home"--did her voice tremble a little then? "I am still young
enough to take root elsewhere, and cousin Jane is so ener