hovered near her door, or sat with Craig Saltus, who at his request remained at Maplehurst, and with whom he talked freely of Sherry and his feeling for her. He had been interested in her when he saw her at the opera. He had been interested in her ever since she came to Maplehurst. He had stood between her and Mrs. Groves two or three times. He had waltzed with her on the piazza and felt a stir in his pulse such as no other girl had ever awakened, and when in her abasement at Mrs. Groves’ cruel blow she had stretched out her hands to him as if for help and he had taken them in his, the work was completed and he knew that he loved her. Several times a day he went to the door of her room to see if anything was wanting, and the rest of the time he sat upon the piazza or under the maple tree, sometimes with Craig Saltus and sometimes with only the dog lying at his feet in a most subdued state, never even noticing when a rabbit ran across the road to its home in the hillside. The dog had been to Sherry’s room during the first of her illness and looked at her with wondering eyes. Then, failing to get any notice from her, he had gone downstairs and out into the yard where Alex. was sitting, and lifting up his head gave vent to his feelings in a howl which made Alex.’s blood curdle as he grasped the dog’s throat and stopped him, talking to him as if he could understand that quiet was necessary if he would have his mistress live. He called Sherry his mistress, and the dog seemed to comprehend and never again gave vent to a sound which superstitious people, and some who are not superstitious, think a portent of evil. Every morning, however, he went to the door of Sherry’s room, gave a low “woof-woof” by way of greeting, and then trotted back, sometimes to his kennel, but oftener to Alex., who felt his sympathy and was glad of his companionship. From the first Mrs. Pledger had taken to Alex. as a young man “with as little nonsense as was often found in a city prig.” Every day she reported Sherry’s progress, and was the first to take the good news to him that the crisis was passed and Sherry much better. Then, sitting down beside him she began to talk of her uncle Crosby and his wife who died so young. “I don’t remember just how old she was,” she said. “Twenty-four or five. It must be recorded on the grave-stone and in the family Bible in the chest, which is nearer. I’ll go and see.”