pping to
encourage him.

"I wonder if he knows he has an audience," said the Daughter of the
House, in a very low tone.

"He knows it is impolite to interrupt the story," said her father. "No;
there he goes!"

And, sure enough, the bird, having decided that on the whole it would
help matters in whatever direction he wished them to be helped, sang
out, clear and loud, what seemed to his audience the most delightful
song he had yet given them.

When he had finished, the Next Neighbor said: "That was so full of soul
I hate to go on with my very material story."

"It strikes me," said the Old Professor, "that there is a good deal of
soul in your story."

"Thank you," said the Next Neighbor, as she again took up the thread of
her narrative.

"That evening, prompted by a sudden impulse, I went up to Bernard, and,
looking into his face, I declared that I would never leave him.

"'What!' he exclaimed. 'Has any one been asking you to leave me?'

"'Of course not,' said I, a little irritated--he has such queer ways of
taking what I say. 'I mean I am not going to die before you do. I am not
going to leave you in this world to take care of yourself.'

"He looked at me as though he did not understand me, and I do not
suppose he did, although he only said: 'I am delighted to hear that, my
dear girl. But how are you going to manage it? How about that hereditary
disease you were talking of the other day?'

"'I have nothing to say about that,' I answered; 'but if I live as long
as my grandfather did, I do not believe that your being a little older
than I am would--I mean that you would not be left alone. Don't you
understand?'

"Bernard did not laugh. 'You are the dearest little woman in the world,'
he said, 'and I believe you would do anything to make me happy--you
would even be willing to survive me, so that I should never lose you.
But don't let us talk any more about such doleful things. We are both
going to live to be a great deal older than your grandfather. Now I will
tell you something pleasant: I had a letter this morning, just as I was
starting out. I put it in my pocket, and did not have time to open it
until we were eating our lunch. It is from my brother George, who is
going to England next month, you know; and as he wants to see something
of us before he starts, he intends to spend a few days in the village,
so that he can be with us. He is coming to-morrow.'

"A ray of hope shot into my heart so bright tha