lone, sir, with her head on the window sill; her poor little face set
toward the tree. I had had a doctor for her--she had been feeling
ill--it was heart trouble--she went without pain. I saw her buried
to-day--some time in the future I am going to take her body to Lost
Mountain. She'll really rest there, I reckon."

The moonlight passed from the white, tired face and Levi's aching eyes
closed, taking the vision of Sandy with them. He recalled the boy's
manner through the closing scenes of his college life; the outward
calmness and grateful appreciation while the hideous trouble was eating
the joy from the hours of triumph he had so bravely won. He reflected
upon the following weeks of toil and lonely labour with that poor,
dying girl in the background taking his life blood as once she had
taken his hard-earned money. Then when he could bear no more Levi
Markham got up and walked over to Sandy. He laid a trembling hand on
his shoulder and by stern effort controlled his voice.

"My boy!" he murmured; "my--boy! words come hard; I'm not an easy
talker--but--you and I are both tuckered out. I have never had a
vacation in my life--a real vacation. I've always packed business and
worry in my satchel. Will you come across the water with me, lad? Let
us try to see if there is any play in us. Let's have a look at some
regular mountains and some second-rate cities--and when we get back I
want you to travel up to that tumble down Hollow you hailed from, and
take my money along; we'll begin repairs at once--you bossing, I paying
the bills. We'll set it going some--you and I! As to this trip abroad
we'll take 'Tilda along to keep us straight and--and make us
comfortable, Sandy!"

But Sandy's head was bowed on his clasped hands and the first tears he
had shed in years were trickling through his fingers.

"You'll come, Sandy Morley?"

"Yes, sir."

"And--I want to tell you, my boy--that I'm satisfied with my flyer of
an investment. Come! Come! You've acted the part of a man before
you've been a boy. You and I have earned--a vacation."

An hour later Markham tapped at Matilda's door and the prompt, "Come
in, Levi," caused him a moment's uneasiness.

"Insomnia?" he asked, drawing a chair close to his sister's bed.

"Just a little wakefulness, brother. Now don't get fidgetty. I'm real
satisfied to lie here and think of my blessedness and comfort. It's
gratifying to recall all your possessions in the night.