"You don't mean that she is going to die?" I asked. "I fear she is. But not immediately." He took leave, and I went back to the bedside. I saw there no longer a snuffy, repulsive old woman, but a human being about to make that mysterious journey a far country whence there is no return. Oh, how I wished mother were there! "Susan," I said, "have you any relatives?" "No, I haven't," she answered sharply. "And if I had they needn't come prowling around me. I don't want no relations about my body." "Would you like to see Dr. Cabot?" "What should I want of Dr. Cabot? Don't tease, child." Considering the deference with which she had heretofore treated me, this was quite a new order of things. I sat down and tried to pray for her, silently, in my heart. Who was to go with her on that long journey, and where was it to end? The woman who had been caring for her now went away, and it was growing dark. I sat still listening to my own heart, which beat till it half choked me. "What were you and the doctor whispering about?" she suddenly burst out. "He asked me, for one thing, if you had any friends that could be sent for." "I've been my own best friend," she returned. "Who'd have raked and scraped and hoarded and counted for Susan Green if I hadn't ha' done it? I've got enough to make me comfortable as long as I live, and when I lie on my dying bed." "But you can't carry it with you," I said. This highly original remark was all I had courage to utter. "I wish I could," she cried. "I suppose you think I talk awful. They say you are getting most to be as much of a saint as your ma. It's born in some, and in some it ain't. Do get a light. It's lonesome here in the dark, and cold." I was thankful enough to enliven the dark room with light and fire. But I saw now that the thin, yellow, hard face had changed sadly. She fixed her two little black eyes on me, evidently startled by the expression of my face. "Look here, child, I ain't hurt to speak of, am I?" "The doctor says you are hurt seriously." My tone must have said more than my words did for she caught me by the wrist and held me fast. "He didn't say nothing about my-about it being dangerous? I ain't dangerous, am I?" I felt ready to sink. "Oh Susan!" I gasped out; "you haven't any time to lose. You're going, you're going!" "Going!" she cried; "going where? You don't mean to say I'm a-dying? Why, it beats all my calculations. I was going to live ever so years, and save up ever so much money, and when my time come, I was going to put on my best fluted night-gown and night-cap, and lay my head on my handsome pillow, and draw the clothes up over me, neat and tidy, and die decent. But here's my bed all in a toss, and my frills all in a crumple and my room all upside down, and bottles of medicine setting around alongside of my vases, and nobody here but you, just a girl, and nothing else!" All this came out by jerks, as it were, and at intervals.