a troubled sleep and felt a pain, like the thrust of a knife
blade, through her left side. The room was dark and cold, the wood fire
in the open grate having died out a couple of hours before, while a cool
wind was blowing with great force outside.

Mrs. Putnam came of the old stock which considered it a virtue to suffer
and be silent, rather than call out and be saved. So she lay for five
long hours suffering intense pain, but declaring to herself, with all
the sturdiness of an old Roman warrior or an Indian chief, that she
would not ask for any assistance "till it wuz time for folks to git up."

This delay was fatal, or was destined to become so, but she did not know
it; she had had colds before, and she had always got well. Why should'nt
she now? It is a strange vagary of old people to consider themselves
just as young as they used to be, notwithstanding their advanced years.
To the majority of the old people, the idea of death is not so appalling
as the inability to work and the incapacity to enjoy the customary
pleasures of life.

Mrs. Putnam had always been an active, energetic woman until she had
lost her power to walk as the result of rheumatic fever; in fact, it was
always acknowledged and said by the country folk that she was the better
half of the matrimonial firm of Silas and Hepsibeth Putnam. Since her
husband's failure to mount to Heaven on the day fixed for the Second
Advent she had had entire control of the family finances. Her
investments, many of which had been suggested by her deceased son, J.
Jones Putnam, had been very profitable.

She owned the house in which she lived, which was the largest, best
finished, and best furnished one in the town of Eastborough. It occupied
a commanding position on the top of a hill, and from its upper windows
could be obtained a fine view of the surrounding country. The soil at
Mason's Corner was particularly fertile, and this fact had led to the
rapid growth of the village, which was three miles from the business
centre of Eastborough, and only a mile from the similar part of the
adjoining town of Montrose.

Back of the Putnam homestead were the best barns, carriage houses, sheds
and other outbuildings to be found in the town, but for years they had
been destitute of horses, cattle, and other domestic animals.

Mr. Putnam had disliked dogs because they killed sheep, and Mrs. Putnam
detested cats. For years no chanticleer had awakened echoes during the
morning h