"Yes," continued Mr. Tilbody, accommodating his gait to that of his companion, who was mechanically, and not very successfully, retracing the track that he had made through the snow; "they have decided that, under the circumstances--under the very peculiar circumstances, you understand--it would be inexpedient to admit you. As superintendent and _ex officio_ secretary of the honorable board"--as Mr. Tilbody "read his title clear" the magnitude of the big building, seen through its veil of falling snow, appeared to suffer somewhat in comparison--"it is my duty to inform you that, in the words of Deacon Byram, the chairman, your presence in the Home would--under the circumstances--be peculiarly embarrassing. I felt it my duty to submit to the honorable board the statement that you made to me yesterday of your needs, your physical condition, and the trials which it has pleased Providence to send upon you in your very proper effort to present your claims in person; but, after careful, and I may say prayerful, consideration of your case--with something too, I trust, of the large charitableness appropriate to the season--it was decided that we would not be justified in doing anything likely to impair the usefulness of the institution intrusted (under Providence) to our care." They had now passed out of the grounds; the street lamp opposite the gate was dimly visible through the snow. Already the old man's former track was obliterated, and he seemed uncertain as to which way he should go. Mr. Tilbody had drawn a little away from him, but paused and turned half toward him, apparently reluctant to forego the continuing opportunity. "Under the circumstances," he resumed, "the decision--" But the old man was inaccessible to the suasion of his verbosity; he had crossed the street into a vacant lot and was going forward, rather deviously toward nowhere in particular--which, he having nowhere in particular to go to, was not so reasonless a proceeding as it looked. And that is how it happened that the next morning, when the church bells of all Grayville were ringing with an added unction appropriate to the day, the sturdy little son of Deacon Byram, breaking a way through the snow to the place of worship, struck his foot against the body of Amasa Abersush, philanthropist. A WATCHER BY THE DEAD I