But here the doctor interfered, saying he should prefer the patient to be kept quiet, and to my eager protest made answer: “He is really safe for the night; the morning will tell whether he is fatally injured or not, and I promise I will give you ample notice.” And so I opened my ears to reason, and shut them hard and close against that still, small voice that cried, “Send! send!” and kept repeating the two words I had seen written upon that stricken, old face: “The end! the end!” In a conflict between reason and instinct I have always found instinct to be right, but, alas! I yielded to reason that time. Down in “Old John’s” room all had been arranged for the night. The gardener was to sit up for the next three hours, then my husband would come down and watch the rest of the night. To the patient this was an arrangement of such outrageous impropriety and so exciting that it had seemingly to be abandoned. The lamp was shaded carefully, an open watch lay on the table by the medicine-bottle, glass and spoon, and all were neighbored by a pitcher of lemonade. Lying on the floor at the foot of the bed was the great dog John had reared from puppyhood, and in the corner, in the seat of the old rocking-chair, three calmly-confident cats lay sleeping. It was all so quiet that when the sick man spoke even his weak tones could be heard plainly. “Mr. H----, will you be thanking the ladies for their goodness to me, and if you please, sir, could me room be made proper-like before either of them might be looking in to-morrow?” The promise was given. Then, after a moment, he said: “If you please, sir, would yer be asking the man to keep the door ajar a bit through the night, that the dog might have his freedom? Yer see he’s used to it, sir.” This promise also was given, and John lay quiet for some minutes. Suddenly his face became troubled, and once more he opened his weary eyes, and looking up at his long-time employer, he anxiously asked: “Sir, has anyone had the sense to bring down the flag?” And said employer, knowing nothing whatever about it, but anxious only to quiet the patient’s mind, answered, “Yes, the flag is down,” though at that moment it was hanging limp at the staff. “John, would you like a drink of water?” asked my husband, finally. “Yes, if you’ll be so kind, sir.” (Pause.) “Do you wish for anything else, John?” “For nothing in the world, sir.” (Another pause.) Then after a faint movement or two: “Sir, perhaps you’ll be kind enough to help me raise my right hand?” The heavy, nearly helpless hand was raised and laid gently across his breast. He gave a sigh of seeming contentment and closed his eyes. “Is that all, John?” “That’s all, sir.” “Good-night, then, John!” “Good-night, sir!” he tenderly replied.