, dear heart, will you tell me or give me
a sign?"

"Yes, Sandy."

"And now--where are you going, Cynthia?"

For the girl was turning from him.

"Just down The Way. I must watch with Aunt Ann. She is a mighty
troublesome lil' child these days. Good-bye."

They looked tenderly, frankly, in each other's eyes and then the girl
was gone.

And that night Cynthia sat beside Ann Walden and kept watch and guard
while faithful Sally slept. The bedchamber was very quiet and only a
tallow candle lighted the gloom. The figure stretched out upon the bed
was deathlike in its rigid motionlessness, and Cynthia's hand lay over
the thin, old wrinkled ones for fear in a drowsy moment the woman might
elude her.

It was past midnight when Ann Walden stirred and opened her eyes.
Cynthia was alert at once, but the light that shone on the old face
revealed an expression which had not rested there for many a day.

"Queenie!"

A cold horror overcame Cynthia, but she held her position and whispered:

"Yes."

"Go to bed, honey. I'm--I'm sorry."

"Never mind, dear." Cynthia meant to play the old sad game that was
the only one possible with the poor creature on the bed.

"I reckon it was--Thorndyke Bothwell over by Susie May Lanley's, wasn't
it?"

"Yes, dear."

"Why didn't you tell me, Queenie? Why didn't you-all trust me. I--I
didn't mean to--be hard."

"No, dear. Never mind. Go--to sleep now."

"Thorndyke Bothwell, he went away--but there must be--some one to
remember. The--letter--take it--to----"

Then a spasm passed over the grim face upon the pillow. The fleeting
sanity was vanishing--"The hearthstone--her--down at Trouble----"

The candle flickered up luridly. The weak voice of the old woman shook
and the eyes lost the lustre.

"You must bide with her--at Trouble----"

Cynthia could not understand; she had never seen the light fade from
the face of one she loved, so the fixed stare, the cessation of speech,
did not alarm her.

"See, dear Aunt Ann, I will put my head down on your pillow, so! There
now! Shut your eyes right close, and I'll sing you to sleep, honey."

The candle decided to splutter once more, and give up the struggle.
The long wick curled over, the tiny beam faded, and was--gone.

Through the long night watches,
May Thine angels spread
Their white wings above me,
Watching round my bed.

Like a little mother crooning over her frightened child, Cynthia sang
the wor