"But there's another life to come," spoke John, in a half-whisper, turning to Miss Gay from the large bay-window. "None of us will be overworked _there_." Miss Gay stealthily wiped her cheeks. "I do not repine," she said, humbly. "I have been enabled to rub on and keep my head above water, and to provide little comforts for mother in her need; and I gratefully thank God for it." * * * * * The bells of the churches, ringing out at eight o'clock, called us up in the morning. Lady Whitney was downstairs, first. I next. Susannah, who waited upon us, had brought up the breakfast. John followed me in. "I hope you have slept well, my boy," said Lady Whitney, kissing him. "I have." "So have I," I put in. "Then you and the mother make up for me, Johnny," he said; "for I have not slept at all." "Oh, John!" exclaimed his mother. "Not a wink all night long," added John. "I can't think what was the matter with me." Susannah, then stooping to take the sugar-basin out of the side-board, rose, turned sharply round and fixed her eyes on John. So curious an expression was on her face that I could but notice it. "Do you not think it was the noise, sir?" she said to him. "I knew that room would be too noisy for you." "Why, the room was as quiet as possible," he answered. "A few carriages rolled by last night--and I liked to hear them; but that was all over before midnight; and I have heard none this morning." "Well, sir, I'm sure you would be more comfortable in a backroom," contended Susannah. "It was a strange bed," said John. "I shall sleep all the sounder to-night." Breakfast was half over when John found he had left his watch upstairs, on the drawers. I went to fetch it. The door was open, and I stepped to the drawers, which stood just inside. Miss Gay and Susannah were making the bed and talking, too busy to see or hear me. A lot of things lay on the white cloth, and at first I could not see the watch. "He declares he has not slept at all; _not at all_," Susannah was saying with emphasis. "If you had only seconded me yesterday, Harriet, they need not have had this room. But you never made a word of objection; you gave in at once." "Well, I saw no reason to make it," said Miss Gay, mildly. "If I were to give in to your fancies, Susannah, I might as well shut up the room. Visitors must get used to it." The watch had been partly hidden under one of John's neckties. I caught it up and decamped. We went to church after breakfast. The first hymn sung was that one beginning, "Brief life." "Brief life is here our portion; Brief sorrow, short-lived care. The life that knows no ending, The tearless life, is _there_."