r scrawled his name hurriedly and tore open the envelope.

These were the brief words of the dispatch:

"Come home, for the Lord's sake, Master Jasper. Your father's dying.

"Margaret Bower."

The paper swam before Jasper's eyes.

"What is it, Jasper--bad news?" asked Wilder; but Jasper did not wait to
answer. He rushed to Dr. Benton's office, got his permission to go home,
packed his valise, and in five minutes was on his way to the depot.

He was just in time for the afternoon train. At seven o'clock in the
evening he entered the avenue that led to his father's house. Throwing
open the front door, he met Margaret in the hall.

"I'm glad you're here, Master Jasper," said the faithful handmaiden,
heartily.

"Is it too late?"

"I hope not; indeed, I hope not."

Jasper waited for no more, but rushed up stairs and into his father's
room.

There were two persons there--the step-mother and a man of thirty, with
black whiskers and sallow complexion, with whom she was talking
earnestly. They, started when Jasper entered, and looked discouraged.
Mrs. Kent looked displeased and annoyed.

"How is my father?" exclaimed Jasper, excitedly.

"Hush! He is very low," said Mrs. Kent "You shouldn't have dashed in
here so abruptly."

"Is there no hope for him?" asked the boy, sorrowfully.

"No, my young friend," said the man, smoothly. "All has been done that
human skill can do, but without avail."

"Are you the doctor?"

"I am."

"Where is Dr. Graham, my father's old doctor?"

"I dismissed him," said his step-mother, "He was not competent to attend
so critical a case. This is Dr. Kenyon."

"I never before heard Dr. Graham's skill doubted," said Jasper. "Is my
father conscious?"

"No; he is under the influence of morphine. Do not wake him up."

"Was he, then, in great pain?"

"Yes, in great pain."

Quietly Jasper drew near the bedside.

His father lay unconscious, his form rigid, his face thin and betraying
marks of weariness and suffering. The tears rose to the eyes of Jasper
as he realized that his father was passing away. As he looked on there
was a slight convulsive movement; then repose. In that one moment his
father had passed on to another world.

The doctor had approached the bedside also, and he, too, saw the
movement.

"He is dead!" he announced.

"Dead!" repeated Mrs. Kent, in a voice rather of surprise than of
sorrow.

"Yes."

"Well," she said, coolly, "we must all die. We have