ed, they never leave it again.'

The doctor went, and thought very gravely of Patty's state. Agatha and
Gwen were constant visitors at the cottage, and did much to comfort
poor Deb, who, now convinced that her sister might never recover, was
overwhelmed with misery.

'We come into the world together, and we're bound to go out together,'
she kept repeating; 'it ain't likely as how she'll leave me behind.'

And if a neighbour would assure her that she was well and strong, and
likely to survive her sister for many years, she would only shake her
head and say, ''Tis against nature; and if so be as her days are
numbered, then so is mine, and I shall be taken, disease or no disease.'

She went about the cottage in a solemn way, turning out old hoards,
writing in crabbed handwriting directions about various matters, and
Gwen came upon a scrap of paper one day with the following items:--

Cost of two plain coffins . . .
Parish clerk's fee . . . . . . .
Bit of ground by the corner yew.
Bearers for Patty . . . . . . .
Bearers for Deborah . . . . . .

The spaces left she evidently meant to fill up. Gwen promptly burnt
the paper, and took her to task about it; but nothing would comfort
her, or convince her that by any possibility she could outlive her
sister.

And then one evening, quietly and simply, like a little child, Patty
passed away. Her last words were to her sister:--

'The good Lord has got me, Deb, and He'll not let me fall.'

Deb sat by her bedside as one stunned. She looked up pitifully when
Gwen came to her side.

'I'm still here--but I'm just waitin' my call.'

It was with difficulty that she could be induced to eat anything, and
when the time came for Patty to be carried to the grave, she saw the
little party of mourners set out in stony unconcern.

'They might have let her bide till I were ready to go, too. It'll be a
double expense, and I can't be here much longer.'

Gwen's heart went out to the desolate old woman, and she hardly let a
day pass without going over to see her. About a week after, she went
one afternoon, but found the house closed. The stillness and desertion
of the cottage sent a thrill of fear through her. Fearing that Deb's
mind had become slightly unhinged, she wondered if she had destroyed
her own life. She tried the door, but it was locked; and then she
noticed a piece of paper tucked into the sill. Taking it out, she
read:--

'If you be Miss Gwen, th