nd again, when she was
not looking, he gave long wondering glances at her, and his eyes were
almost troubled. "So I hear you and the kid have been living
together again."

"Huldah? Oh, Tom, she's been such a comfort to me--"

"That's all right. I s'pose she isn't such a bad kid, on the whole."

"She's more'n good to me." Then quickly, feverishly she began to
pour out the story of her life since he "was took away." She told
him of Charlie and the van, and how she was tricked. Of her coming
to Huldah, and their home together, and her own illness, until
gradually her voice grew weary and fainter and fainter. The flush
died out of her cheeks, the light out of her eyes. She was
exhausted, but after she could not even whisper, a smile still
hovered about her lips, and her hand held that of her husband.
He sat on, apparently content to do so. When her voice ceased, he
did not seem to notice. He appeared to be lost in thought to which
no one had the clue.

Huldah sat as still as a mouse, never speaking, and hoping to escape
being spoken to. Occasionally she placed a piece of coal or wood on
the fire, but that was all. She could not see her aunt's face, but
she thought at last she must be asleep, she was so still and quiet.

The silence, broken as it was only by the crackle of the fire, had
begun to grow oppressive, when suddenly it was broken by a sound of
singing, low, quivering, almost indistinct:--

"For the end--of my--journey--I see--
Many dear to my heart--over there
Are watching--and waiting for me.
Over--there, over--there--
I'll soon be--at--home--"

Tom Smith tried to draw away his hand, but his wife's hand clung to
it, her voice died away. "Kiss me--Tom, won't you?" she gasped.

He stooped and kissed her. She lifted her hand to touch his cheek,
but it fell back helpless. "Hark," she gasped--"the knocking! I--am
coming--" then with one long deep sigh, her voice was still for ever.

A few moments later, Tom Smith stumbled down the stairs, and out into
the darkness and away, never to be seen by Huldah again. She knew
and realised nothing then, but that her Aunt Emma was dead, that all
her dreams had ended, all her plans for the future were fruitless,
that their living together was ended, her home broken up once more.

"She's had such a hard life!" she sobbed. "And I thought I was going
to make her so happy when she got about a bit again."

"But she never would h