Hunting also saw that the crisis was approaching, and made but a formal semblance of a breakfast. He then entered the sick-room, and was thinking how best to broach the subject of an immediate marriage, when a thumping of crutches was heard in the hall. Miss Eulie entered and said that Daddy Tuggar had managed to hobble over, and had set his heart upon seeing his old friend. "Certainly," said Mr. Walton; "he shall come in at once." "Caution him to stay but a few minutes," warned Annie. Miss Eulie helped the old man in, and he sat down by Mr. Walton's side, with a world of trouble on his quaint, wrinkled face. But he said abruptly, as if he expected an affirmative answer, "Yer gettin' better this mornin'--yer on the mend?" "Yes, my kind old neighbor," said Mr. Walton, feebly. "I shall soon be well. It was kind of you, in your crippled state, to come over to see me." "Well, now," said Mr. Tuggar, greatly relieved, "there _is_ use of prayin'. I ain't much of a hand at it, and didn't know how the Lord would take it from me; but when I heard you was sick, I began to feel like prayin', and when I heard you was gettin' wuss, I couldn't help prayin'. When I heard how that city chap as saved the house--(what an old fool I was to cuss him when he first came! The Lord knew what He was doin' when He brought him here)--when I heard how he kept the ladder from falling on Miss Annie, I prayed right out loud. My wife, she thought I was gettin' crazy. But I didn't care what anybody thought. I've been prayin' all night, and it seemed as if the Lord must hear me, and I kinder felt it in my bones that He had. So I expected to hear you say you was goin' to get well; and Mr. Gregory, he's better too--ain't he?" There was no immediate answer. Neither Miss Eulie nor Annie seemed to know how to reply to the old man at first. But Mr. Walton reached slowly out and took his neighbor's hand, saying, "Your prayers will be answered, my friend. Honest prayer to God always is. I shall be well soon, never to be old, feeble, and sick any more. I'm going where there's 'no more pain.' Perhaps I've seen my last night, for there is 'no night there.'" "But the Lord knows I didn't mean nothin' of that kind. We need you here, and He orter know it. What's the use of prayin' if you get just the opposite of what you pray for?" "Suppose the opposite is best? I'm an old man--a shock of corn fully ripe. I'm ready to be gathered." "Are yer goin' to die?" asked the old man, in an awed whisper. "No, Mr. Tuggar; I've been growing old and feeble, I've been dying for a long time. Now I'm going to live--to be strong and well, forever and ever. So don't grieve, but rather rejoice with me." The old man sat musing a moment, and then said softly to himself, "This is what the Scripter means when it tells about the 'death of the righteous.'"