"The doin's they're goin' to have in the hall. If I should go in the midst of it, don't you tell no more'n you can help. But I guess I can live through one day anyways." That forenoon she was a little brighter, as one may be with the mounting sun, and Clelia, disregarding all entreaties to see the "doings" at the hall, took faithful care of her. But in the late afternoon while she sat beside the bed and Sabrina drowsed, there was a clear whistle very near. It sounded like a quail outside the window. Clelia flushed red. The sick woman, opening her eyes, saw how she was shaking. "What is it, dear?" she asked. "It's Richmond," said Clelia, in a full, moved voice. "It's his whistle." "You go out to him, dear," urged Sabrina, as if she could not say it fast enough. "You hurry." And Clelia went, trembling. When she came back, half an hour later, she walked like a goddess breathing happiness and pride. "O Sabrina!" She sank down by the bedside and put her head beside Sabrina's cheek. "He was there in the garden. He kissed me right in sight of the road. If 't had been in the face and eyes of everybody, it couldn't have made any difference. 'You took care of mother,' he said. 'I like your mother,' I said. 'I'd like to live with her--and aunt Lucindy.' And he said then, Sabrina, he said then, 'We sha'n't have to.' And Sabrina, he's been on to New York to see if he could find out anything about the railroad that's going through to save stopping at the Junction; and he saw Senator Gilman, and that's how the senator came down here. He got talking with Richmond, old times and all, and he just wanted to come. And the railroad's going through the ten-acre pasture, and Richmond'll get a lot of money." Sabrina's hand rested on the girl's head. "There, dear," she said movingly. "Didn't I tell you? Don't cry till to-morrow, an' maybe you won't have to then." Clelia sat up, wiping her eyes and laughing. "That isn't all," she said. "Senator Gilman wants to see you." "Me!" Sabrina rose and sat upright in bed. The color flooded her pale cheeks. Her eyes dilated. "Yes. He told Richmond you used to go to school together, and he's coming down here on his way to the train. And sick or well, he said, you'd got to see him." Sabrina had put one shaking hand to her hair. "It's turned white," she whispered. But Clelia did not hear her. She had opened the chest at the foot of the bed, and taken out a soft package delicately wrapped. She pulled out a score of pins and shook the shimmering folds of the blue dress. Then she glanced at Sabrina still sitting there, the color flooding her cheeks again with their old pinkness. "Oh!" breathed Clelia, in rapture at the dress, and again at the sweet rose-bloom in Sabrina's face. Then she calmed herself, remembering this was a sick chamber, though every moment the airs of life seemed entering. She brought the dress to the bedside. "You put your arm in, Sabrina," she coaxed.