Such lovely hair, and eyes, and dazzling
complexion!' was said by more than one; and then they speculated as to
her future.

Would she go to the poor-house? Would Frank Tracy keep her with all his
children, or was it true, as they had heard, that Mr. Arthur Tracy was
to adopt her at his own? And where was Mr. Arthur? He might, at least,
have shown enough respect for the dead woman to come into the room, and
they wanted so much to see him, for there was a great deal of curiosity
with regard to the lunatic of Tracy Park among the lower class of people
who had come to Shannondale during the eleven years of his absence.

But Arthur was sick in bed, suffering alternately from chills and a
raging fever, which set his brain on fire and made him wilder than
usual. He had not slept well during the night. Indeed, he said, he had
not slept at all. But this was a common assertion of his, and one to
which Charles now paid little heed.

'A man can't snore and not sleep,' was the unanswerable argument with
which he refuted the sleepless nights of his master.

On this occasion, however, he had heard no snoring, and Arthur's face,
seen by the morning light, was a sufficient proof of the wakeful hours
he had passed. He, too, had heard the distant crying, and felt
instinctively that it was not Maude's. Starting up in bed to listen, he
said:

'What's that? Is that child here yet?'

'Yes sir: she is to stay till after the funeral,' was Charles' reply,
and Arthur continued:

'Bring me some cotton for my ears. I never can stand that noise. It is a
peculiar cry.'

The cotton was brought. A window in the hall which had a habit of
rattling with every breath of wind was made fast with a bit of shingle
whittled out for that purpose, and then Arthur became tolerably quiet
until morning, when he began to talk to himself in the German language,
which Charles could not understand. But he caught the name Gretchen, and
knew she was the subject of the sick man's thoughts. Suddenly turning to
his attendant, to whom he always spoke in English, Arthur said:

'The funeral is to-day?'

'Yes, sir, at ten o'clock.'

'Well, lock every door leading up this way, and shut out the gossipping
blockheads who will come by hundreds, and, if we would let them, swarm
into my room as thick as the frogs were in the houses of the Egyptians.
Shut the doors, Charles, and keep them out.'

So the doors were shut and bolted, and then Arthur lay listening with
that