With the exception of Aun' Sheba's household, the final days of August were passing quietly and uneventfully to the other characters of our story. Little Vilet had received something like a sunstroke, and she never rallied. Day and night she lay on her cot, usually wakeful and always patient. It would seem that her vital forces were sapped, for she grew steadily weaker and thinner. Aun' Sheba did little else than wait on and watch her, except when Kern was home. When off duty at the fire department, he would permit no one else to do anything for his child but himself. The little girl preferred his attendance even to that of her mother, and the strong man would carry her up and down his little yard in the cool night air by the hour, or rock her to sleep on his breast when the sun was high. No touch was so gentle as his, or so soothing. He would hush his great, mellow voice into soft, melodious tones as he sung her favorite hymns, and often her feeble treble would blend with his rich baritone. He yearned over her with inexpressible tenderness, counting the minutes when on duty till the hour came which permitted his return. In his agony of apprehension "his flesh jes drap off'n him," as Aun' Sheba and his wife said. He slept little and ate little, but was always punctual at the engine-house to the minute. Mara and Ella visited the child daily, and tried to tempt her failing appetite with delicacies. Sissy, Vilet's mother, hovered about her child most of the time, when her housekeeping duties and the care of the other children permitted, but after all her chief solicitude centred in her husband. She and Aun' Sheba often said, "Kern, ef de Lawd wants her we mus jes gib her up. De Hebenly Fader hab de fust right." "I hab my feelins all de same," Kern would reply. "Ef de Lawd put sech feelins in my heart I can't help it." On the evening of the 31st of August, Vilet was very feeble. The closeness and heat oppressed her. All, except Uncle Sheba, made a poor pretence of supper. Nothing affected his appetite, and, having cleared the table, he went over to his own doorstep and lighted his pipe. Before it was finished he was dozing comfortably against the doorcase. Aun' Sheba, with a great sigh, lighted her pipe also, and sat down on the Watson steps with her daughter that they might breathe cooler air. Kern took up his little daughter, and began to walk in the yard and sing as usual. "Well," ejaculated Aun' Sheba, "Missy Mara's call yis-tidy 'lieve my min' po'ful. I'se couldn't tromp de streets wid a basket now nohow. Missy Mara say she won' begin bakin' till I'm ready. She look too po'ly to tink ob it hersef. Lor! what a narrow graze she an de res ob dem hab! No won'er she all broken up. Dat awful 'scape keeps runnin ebin in my dreams. Bress de good Lawd dat brung Marse Houghton right dar in time!" "Missy Ella an' Marse Houghton oughter hab dey own way now, shuah," Sissy remarked.