she'd jist
lop down a few minutes on the old sofa at the foot of the bed, and I
made me a cup of tea like as I'm a-doin' now, and set with my back to
him."

"Well?" said Mrs. Kittridge, eagerly.

"Well, you see he kept a-tossin' and throwin' off the clothes, and I
kept a-gettin' up to straighten 'em; and once he threw out his arms, and
something bright fell out on to the pillow, and I went and looked, and
it was a likeness that he wore by a ribbon round his neck. It was a
woman--a real handsome one--and she had on a low-necked black dress, of
the cut they used to call Marie Louise, and she had a string of pearls
round her neck, and her hair curled with pearls in it, and very wide
blue eyes. Well, you see, I didn't look but a minute before he seemed to
wake up, and he caught at it and hid it in his clothes. Well, I went and
sat down, and I grew kind o' sleepy over the fire; but pretty soon I
heard him speak out very clear, and kind o' surprised, in a tongue I
didn't understand, and I looked round."

Miss Roxy here made a pause, and put another lump of sugar into her tea.

"Well?" said Mrs. Kittridge, ready to burst with curiosity.

"Well, now, I don't like to tell about these 'ere things, and you
mustn't never speak about it; but as sure as you live, Polly Kittridge,
I see that ar very woman standin' at the back of the bed, right in the
partin' of the curtains, jist as she looked in the pictur'--blue eyes
and curly hair and pearls on her neck, and black dress."

"What did you do?" said Mrs. Kittridge.

"Do? Why, I jist held my breath and looked, and in a minute it kind o'
faded away, and I got up and went to the bed, but the man was gone. He
lay there with the pleasantest smile on his face that ever you see; and
I woke up Ruey, and told her about it."

Mrs. Kittridge drew a long breath. "What do you think it was?"

"Well," said Miss Roxy, "I know what I think, but I don't think best to
tell. I told Doctor Meritts, and he said there were more things in
heaven and earth than folks knew about--and so I think."

* * * * *

Meanwhile, on this same evening, the little Mara frisked like a
household fairy round the hearth of Zephaniah Pennel.

The boy was a strong-limbed, merry-hearted little urchin, and did full
justice to the abundant hospitalities of Mrs. Pennel's tea-table; and
after supper little Mara employed herself in bringing apronful after
apronful of her choicest treasures