ade my will long ago. There's a copy of it in there," and he
pointed to the lower part of the bureau; "while th' instrument itself
lies snug in Mr. Cleaver's safe, over at Manninglea."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't speak of it. I can't bear even to hear
the word." And then, taking alarm, she said he must be feeling really
ill, or such things as wills would never have come into his head.
"Tell me the truth, dear. Tell me what you do feel--truly." And she
asked him all sorts of questions about his health, begging him to
consult a doctor without a day's delay.

"Only a bit tired, Mav--and that's what I never used to feel."

"No, you never did. And I don't at all understand it."

"It's quite natural, my dear."

"Not natural to you."

Then he took her hand, pressed it affectionately, and laughed in his
old jolly way. "My dear, it's nothing--just an excuse for slacking off
now and then. Remember, Mav, I am not a chicken. I shall be fifty
before th' end of this year."

He convinced her that there was no cause for her anxiety; and only too
happy not to have to be anxious, she thought no more of this strange
thing that her untiring Will now sometimes knew what tiredness meant.

But his lassitude increased. He uttered no further hints about it to
anybody; he endeavored to conceal it; he refused to admit its extent
even to himself. On certain days to think made him weary, to be active
and bustling was an impossibility. Instinct seemed to whisper that he
was passing through still another phase, that presently he would be
all right again--just as vigorous and energetic as in the past; and
that meanwhile he should not flog and spur himself, but just rest
patiently until all his force returned to him.

Since to do anything was a severe effort, he had better do nothing. He
ceased to bother about Billy's schooling. He postponed making his
harvest arrangements; he forgot to answer a letter asking for an
estimate, and one Thursday he omitted to wind the clocks. He tried to
let his beard grow, in order to escape the trouble of shaving. It grew
during three days; but the effect was so disfiguring--a stiff stubble
of gray, hiding his fine strong chin, and spreading high on his
bronzed cheeks--that Norah and Mavis implored him to desist. Even
Ethel the housemaid ventured to say how very glad she felt when he
shaved again.

The month of May was hot and enervating; the month of June was wet and
depressing. Day after day the rain b