Mr. Walton's indisposition was evidently not trivial. There was a soreness about the lungs that made it painful for him to talk much, and he had a severe, racking cough. They were all solicitude in his behalf. The family physician had been called, and it was hoped that a few days of care would remove this cold. As he sat in his comfortable arm-chair by the fire he would smilingly say he was having such a good time and so much petting that he did not intend to get well very soon. Though Gregory's burn was painful, and both hands were bruised and cut from climbing, he did not regret the suffering, since it also secured from Annie some of the attention she would otherwise have given her father. Wednesday afternoon was pleasant, and Gregory went out for a walk. He did not return till rather late, and, coming down to supper, found by his plate a letter which clouded his face instantly. Annie was radiant, for the same mail had brought her one from Hunting, stating that he might be expected any day now. As she saw Gregory's face darken, she said, "I fear your letter has brought you unpleasant news." "It has," he replied. "Mr. Burnett, the senior partner, is quite ill, and it is necessary that I return immediately." "I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, with such hearty emphasis that he looked at her earnestly and said, "Are you really?" "You shouldn't ask such a question," she answered, reproachfully. "Why, Miss Walton, I've made a very long visit." "So much has happened that it does seem a long time since you came. But I wish it were to be longer. We shall miss you exceedingly. Besides," she added, with rising color, "I have a special reason for wishing you to stay a little longer." His color rose instantly also. She puzzled him, while he perplexed her. "I hope Mr. Gregory's visit has taught him," said Mr. Walton, kindly, "that he has not lost his former home through our residence here, and that he can run up to the old place whenever he finds opportunity." "I can say sincerely," he responded, "that I have enjoyed the perfection of hospitality;" adding, in a low tone and with a quick, remorseful look at Annie, "though little deserving it." "You have richly repaid us," said Mr. Walton, heartily. "It would have been very hard for me at my years to have to seek a new home. I have become wedded to this old place with my feelings and fancies, and the aged, you know, dislike change. I wish to make only one more, then rest will be complete." "Now, father," said Annie, with glistening eyes, "you must not talk in that way. You know well that we cannot spare you even to go to heaven." "Well, my child," answered he, fondly. "I am content to leave that in our best Friend's hands. But I cannot say," he added, with a touch of humor, "that it's a heavy cross to stay here with you."