"When she awakes, she will be better or----" Dr. Hall broke off, and went over to the window. "It's the crisis," he finished huskily. Flossy, in her quiet, optimistic bravery, had made her place in the hearts of her townspeople. Isabel knelt beside her, watching Jap's face, with its unnatural calm, fearfully. She dared not speak. Bill stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, his cap twirling uncertainly in his hand. His eyes shifted uneasily from the thin, white face on the pillow to the frozen features of Jap. A clock ticked loudly. The thick gloom broke. A tiny linnet that Jap had given Flossy fluttered to the swing in its cage and burst, all at once, into song, and a vagrant sunbeam darted through the western clouds. Flossy opened her eyes. "Jap," she gasped painfully, "is this the thing called Death, this uplift of joy?" The doctor raised her in his arms and gave her a few sips of medicine. She was easier. She motioned Jap to bend closer. "Is he gone?" she asked clearly. "Is my boy with his father?" Jap kissed her forehead gently. "He is with Ellis," he whispered. "Then I thank You, great Giver of all Good," she cried happily, "for I can go now." She summoned Bill with her eyes. "I want you to make the boy very proud of the men he was named for," she smiled. It was a smile of heavenly beauty, as the pure soul of Ellis Hinton's wife flew to join her loved ones. CHAPTER XVIII Bill and Isabel led Jap from the room as the doctor drew the sheet over Flossy's face. Together the three left the cottage. In dazed silence they walked past the row of modest homes until the business street was reached. Across Main street they went, in stony silence, the girl clinging to an arm of each of her escorts. In front of the elm-shaded residence of Tom Granger, now stark and bare in its late autumn undress, they paused. Isabel, unheedful of the passing crowd, threw her arms around Jap's neck and kissed him passionately. A moment he held her in his arms, his tearless eyes burning. And in her awakened woman's heart, she knew that he was looking through her, beholding the trio of adored ones whose influence had made his heart a fitting habitation for her own. And in that consciousness Isabel Granger experienced no twinge of jealousy. Silently she walked up the brick-paved path to the stately old house, as Jap and Bill turned back toward Main street. When they reached the office, they locked the door behind them. With the mechanical action of automata, they climbed to their stools and threw the belated issue of the _Herald_ into type. "Bill, can you do it?" Jap asked at length. "I'll do my best," Bill said huskily. And his tears wet the type as he set up a brief obituary notice.