"Why don't he idolize the child's"--began her husband, in undertone, and did not have to finish to make us understand. "He does," murmured the smiling wife. "Then why shouldn't he tell her so?" "My dear!" objected the wife, very softly and prettily. "I don't mean to speak lightly," responded the husband, "but--they love each other; they suit each other; they complete each other; they don't feel their disparity of years; they're both so linked to Alice that it would break either heart over again to be separated from her. I don't see why"-- Laura shook her head, smiling in the gentle way that only the happy wives of good men have. "It will never be." * * * What changes! "The years creep slowly by"-- We seem to hear the old song yet. What changes! Laura has put two more leaves into her dining-table. Children fill three seats. Alice has another. It is she, now, not her chair, that is tall--and fair. Mary, too, has a seat at the same board. This is their home now. Her hair is turning all to silver. So early? Yes; but she is--she never was--so beautiful! They all see it--feel it; Dr. Sevier--the gentle, kind, straight old Doctor--most of all. And oh! when they two, who have never joined hands on this earth, go to meet John and Alice,--which God grant may be at one and the same time,--what weeping there will be among God's poor! THE END.