or dying, and labored over her with the frightened thankfulness for one
another's living presence which always marks that dreadful moment. But
even as we fanned and rubbed, and cried out to one another to open the
windows and to bring water, the blue lips moved to a ghostly whisper:
"Em, listen----" The old woman went back to the nickname of their common
youth. "Em--your Ev'leen Ann--tried to drown herself--in the Mill Brook
last night.... That's what decided me--to----" And then we were plunged
into another desperate struggle with Death for the possession of the
battered old habitation of the dauntless soul before us.

"Isn't there any hot water in the house?" cried Paul, and "Yes, yes; a
tea-kettle on the stove!" answered the woman who labored with us. Paul,
divining that she meant the kitchen, fled down-stairs. I stole a look at
Emma Hulett's face as she bent over the sister she had not seen in
thirty years, and I knew that Mrs. Purdon's battle was won. It even
seemed that she had won another skirmish in her never-ending war with
death, for a little warmth began to come back into her hands.

When Paul returned with the tea-kettle, and a hot-water bottle had been
filled, the owner of the house straightened herself, assumed her
rightful position as mistress of the situation, and began to issue
commands. "You git right in the automobile, and go git the doctor," she
told Paul. "That'll be the quickest. She's better now, and your wife and
I can keep her goin' till the doctor gits here."

As Paul left the room she snatched something white from a bureau-drawer,
stripped the worn, patched old cotton nightgown from the skeleton-like
body, and, handling the invalid with a strong, sure touch, slipped on a
soft, woolly outing-flannel wrapper with a curious trimming of zigzag
braid down the front. Mrs. Purdon opened her eyes very slightly, but
shut them again at her sister's quick command, "You lay still, Em'line,
and drink some of this brandy." She obeyed without comment, but after a
pause she opened her eyes again and looked down at the new garment which
clad her. She had that moment turned back from the door of death, but
her first breath was used to set the scene for a return to a decent
decorum.

"You're still a great hand for rick-rack work, Em, I see," she murmured
in a faint whisper. "Do you remember how surprised Aunt Su was when you
made up a pattern?"

"Well, I hadn't thought of it for quite some time," returned