I scarcely know how long my bright-hued dream would have lasted, but at length the door of Mrs. Yocomb's room opened, and steps were on the stairs. A moment later the physician came out, and Miss Warren stood in the doorway. "They are all sleeping quietly," he said, in answer to my inquiry. "Yes; all danger in Zillah's case is now passed, I think; but she's had a serious time of it, poor little thing!" "There's no need of your walking home to-night," protested Miss Warren. "We can make you comfortable here, and Reuben will gladly drive you over in the morning." "It's morning now," he said, smiling, "and I'll enjoy the walk in the fresh air. I'll call again before very long. Good-day!" and he walked lightly down the path, as if all were very satisfactory to him. "What are you doing here, Mr. Morton?" Miss Warren asked, assuming an expression of strong surprise. "Helping to watch." "What a waste! You haven't done Zillah a bit of good." "Didn't you know I was here?" "Yes; but I hope you don't think that I need watching?" "I was within call." "So you would have been if sleeping. I could have blown the great tin horn if it had been necessary to waken you, and you had remained undisturbed by other means." "Oh, well, then, if it made no difference to you, I'll merely say I'm a night editor, and kept awake from habit." "I didn't say it made no difference to me," she answered. "You ought to have known better than to have made that speech." "Miss Warren," I urged anxiously, "you look white as a ghost in this mingling of moonlight and morning. When _will_ you rest?" "When the mind and heart are at rest a tired body counts for little. So you're not afraid of ghosts?" I looked at her intently as I replied: "No, I would like to be haunted all my life." It was not wholly the reflection of the dawn that tinged the pallor of her face as I spoke these words. After a moment's hesitation she apparently dismissed a thought, and maintained her old frank manner. "Oh, how beautiful, how welcome the morning is!" she exclaimed, coming out on the piazza. "To think that this is the same world that we saw last night--it's almost impossible." "Mr. Yocomb's words will yet prove true," I said, "and clearer skies and better grain will be the result of the storm." "Oh, I'm so glad, I'm so very glad," she murmured. "This morning is like a benediction;" and its brightness and beauty glowed in her face. "I can tell you something that will please you greatly," I continued. "I have visited the little home in the garden that was open to last night's sky. The father and mother robins are well, and I'm sure all the little ones are too, for the mother robin had her head under her wing--a thing impossible, I suppose, if anything was amiss with the children." "Oh, I'm so glad!" she again repeated, and there was a joyous, exquisite thrill in her tones.