And William King had the grace to blush and stammer something about Miss Harriet's hating anything personal. Dr. Lavendar listened silently; then he went on up the path to the Stuffed-Animal House. Old Miss Annie let him into the darkened hall, a burst of western sunshine flooding in behind him and making the grim, dead creatures dart out of their shadows for a moment, and sink back into them again when the door was shut. The old child had been crying, for Miss Harriet had turned her out of her room, and so he had to sit there in the hall, under the shark, and try to comfort her and bid her go out and see her chickens. But for once Miss Annie would not be diverted: "Harriet wants to go out-of-doors, and she can't. And she is hurt; and Willy King won't give her sugar in a paper to stop the hurting. He is wicked." "By-and-by," said Dr. Lavendar, "Harriet will fall asleep and not be hurt any more." "Not till she is dead," Miss Annie said; "Augustine told me so." "I meant that," Dr. Lavendar said, stroking the poor, gray head grovelling against his knee. "Then why didn't you say so? It is a story to say sleep when you mean dead." "I ought to have said dead," he acknowledged, gently, "so that you could understand. But I want you to remember that death is a happy sleep. Will you remember that?" "A happy sleep," Miss Annie repeated; "yes; I will remember. _A happy sleep._" She lifted her head from his knee and smiled. "I'll go and see my chickens," she said. [Illustration: "'A HAPPY SLEEP,' MISS ANNIE REPEATED"] And Dr. Lavendar took his way up-stairs, past the cases of birds, to Miss Harriet's room. She received him with elaborate cheerfulness. As for Dr. Lavendar, he lost no time in pretence. "Miss Harriet," he said, "I am not going to stay and talk and tire you. You've seen people enough to-day--" "I'm not tired in the least." "But I have a word to say to you." She looked at him angrily. "I would rather not talk about myself, Dr. Lavendar, please." "I don't want to talk about yourself," he said. Her face cleared a little. "That's a relief. I was afraid you were going to talk to me about 'preparing,' and so forth." A sudden smile twinkled into Dr. Lavendar's old eyes. "My dear Miss Harriet, you've been 'preparing' for fifty years--or is it fifty-one? I've lost count, Harriet. No; you haven't got anything to do about dying; dying is not your business. In fact, I sometimes think it never is our business. Our business is living. Dying is God's affair." "I haven't any business, that's the worst of it," Miss Harriet said, bitterly. "I've nothing to do--nothing to do but just lie here and wait. I don't mind dying; but to be here in this trap, waiting. And I've always been so busy, I don't know how to do nothing." "That's what I wanted to say to you. There is something you can do. In fact, there's something you must do." "Something I must do?" Miss Harriet said, puzzled.