"Fudge!" cried Mrs. Dale. "I brought her round all right before that nurse came. She can't have killed her in this time. The fact is, brother, Arabella Forsythe isn't in any hurry to get well; she likes the excitement of frightening us all to death. I declare, Helen, she made her death-bed adieux six times over! I must say, nothing does show a person's position in this world so well as his manner of leaving it. You won't find poor William Denner making a fuss. He isn't Admiral Denner's great-grandson for nothing. Yes, Arabella Forsythe has talked about her soul, and made arrangements for her funeral, every day for a week. That's where her father's money made in buttons crops out!" "But aunt Deely," Helen said, "isn't there any hope for Mr. Denner? Ashurst wouldn't be Ashurst without Mr. Denner!" "No, not a bit," Mrs. Dale answered promptly. "I suppose you'll go and see him this morning, brother, and tell him?" "Yes," replied Dr. Howe, sighing, "I suppose I must, but it does seem unnecessary to disturb him." "He won't be disturbed," said Mrs. Dale stoutly; "he isn't that kind. There, now," she added, as Dr. Howe took up his hat and stick and went gloomily out into the sunshine, "I shouldn't wonder if your father left it to Gifford to break it to him, after all. It is curious how Archibald shrinks from it, and he a clergyman! I could do it, easily. Now, Lois, you run along; I want to talk to Helen." But the rector had more strength of purpose than his sister thought. His keen eyes blurred once or twice in his walk to the village, and his lip almost trembled, but when he reached Mr. Denner's bedside he had a firm hand to give his friend. The doctor had left a note for him, saying the end was near, and he read this before he went into the sick-room. Mr. Denner had failed very perceptibly since the day before. He looked strangely little in the great bed, and his brown eyes had grown large and bright. But he greeted the rector with courteous cordiality, under which his faint voice faltered, and almost broke. "How are you to-day, Denner?" his friend said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and taking the sick man's hand in his big warm grasp. "Thank you," replied Mr. Denner, with labored breath, "I am doing nicely." "Has Giff been here this morning?" asked Dr. Howe. "Yes," the lawyer answered. "He has gone home for an hour. Mary takes excellent care of me, and I felt I was really keeping him too much from his aunts. For his stay is limited, you know, and I am afraid I have been selfish in keeping him so much with me." "No, no," the rector said, "it is a pleasure for him to be with you; it is a pleasure for any of us. Poor little Lois is dreadfully distressed about you,--she longs to come and nurse you herself; and Helen,--Helen came last night, you know,--she wants to be of some use, too."