was so high that Margaret was not tall enough to look in. She remembered the four-legged stool painted gray--it generally stood between the wood-house and the back door; the postman used to sit on it sometimes and talk to Towsey while he rested. If she stood on that she might see into the kitchen. She found it, and, still not making a sound, put it down beneath the window, mounted, and looked in. Through the muslin curtain she could see Towsey by the fireplace; she had put a little saucepan on the fire, and was beginning to stir something that was in it, and there was no one else in the kitchen. Margaret tapped gently, and Towsey started as if she divined that it was Margaret; she came to the window and, lifting the curtain, looked out. Margaret put her head close to the glass so that in the darkness there could be no mistake of her identity. Then Towsey signed to her to go to the back door, and went and softly unbarred it. She only opened it a little way and put out her head as if she were afraid that even a whisper might be heard inside the house. "Miss Margaret," she said, "I knew you would be here." "Is she better?" Margaret asked, breathlessly. Towsey shook her head. "She's never going to be better," she whispered; "but she's always been a healthy woman, and it may take a deal of dying to bring her to the end." The words smote Margaret, and she held on to the doorway to support herself. "Is Hannah with her?" she asked. "Ay, she is with her; you may be sure of that." "Has she said nothing about me? Didn't she mean to send for me?" "Not a word. You see it has all been so sudden; she was only took worse last night." "Did she get a telegram yesterday?" "Ay, late yesterday afternoon. She said I wasn't to say anything to Hannah about it; she looked as if she were pleased. Hannah had gone over to Petersfield for the afternoon when it came and didn't get back till half an hour after." "What is the matter with mother?--is it her heart, or what?" "Yes, it's her heart, I expect; we sent Daddy for the doctor at nine o'clock last night, and he came again this morning. He hadn't been since last week. He said she was better; but he didn't seem to think well of her." "Has Hannah said nothing about me?" "I asked her if she'd wrote after he had gone, but she told me to mind my work and leave her to mind other things." "And then?" "And then I just got George Canning to write those lines and post them in Haslemere when he went for the physic. I thought if he posted it before twelve you'd likely get it to-night." "I did--I did!" and Margaret put her hand on Towsey's arm in token of gratitude. Towsey turned her head back for a moment as if she were listening, but all was still above. "Has mother asked for me?" Margaret whispered. "Ay, every hour." "I must come in, I will come in!" she said, desperately.