I lighted the lamp and went into the closet. I said that there were dresses hanging there. Among them my eyes singled out one; it was not bright,--no, it was a grave, brown, plaid dress. I tried to call Kate. My voice would not obey me. My tongue was still. I grasped the knob and turned it; the door opened. Poor Katie! she was asleep. She started up, bringing the larger half of a dream with her, I'm sure. "It's not so dreadful. You have me left, father," she said, with her young face rosy, and very sleepy. I went close to her, put my hand upon the cover, and said,-- "You must call Mr. Axtell, Katie." "For what? Is Miss Axtell worse?" "I think so; she will not lie down." "Do you think I might try to coax her?"--and Katie rubbed her heavy eyelids, open too soon. "If you think you can." Miss Axtell had ceased to talk; she had fallen back into the old absorbed state. Katie kneeled down beside her chair, and spoke. "Miss Lettie!" she said. Miss Lettie did not answer. Katie put out one finger only. I saw it shake a bit, as she laid it upon Miss Lettie's hand. As when the doctor touched her forehead, she came back to her proper self, and said,-- "What is it, Kate? Isn't it time you were asleep?" "Don't you know that my mother is dead?" said poor motherless Katie. "And so is mine," said Miss Axtell. "And mine," added I. "And is it for that that you don't sleep, Kate?" "No, Ma'am; but it is because you won't try to sleep; and you told us all, when my mother died, that"--and Katie stopped there. "Why don't you go on?" I asked, in a low voice. "I can't,--I don't remember the words; but you said, Miss Lettie, that too much sorrow was wicked." "And so it is; and mine is, if it keeps you awake. I will lie down." The little maid so kindly, gently arranged the pillows, and made the lady comfortable, that there was little left for me to do.