“Only the Dempster's funeral, Kitty,” said Cæsar. “They were for burying him to-morrow, but men that drink don't keep. They'll be putting him in the family vault at Lezayre with his father, the staunch ould Rechabite. Many a good cow has a bad calf, you see, and that's bad news for a man's children; but many a good calf is from a bad cow, and that's good news for the man himself. It's been the way with Peter anyway, for the Lord has delivered him and prospered him, and I'm hearing on the best authority he has five thousand golden sovereigns sent home to Mr. Dumbell's bank at Douglas.” Grannie came up with a basin of beef-tea, and Cæsar was hustled out of the room. “Come now, bogh; take a spoonful, and I'll lave you to yourself,” said Grannie. “Yes, leave me to myself,” said Kate, sipping wearily; and then Grannie went off with the basin in her hand. “Has she taken it?” said some one below. “Look at that, if you plaze,” said Grannie in a jubilant tone; and Kate knew that the empty basin was being shown around. Kate lay back on the pillow, listened to the tolling of the bell, and shuddered. She thought it a ghostly thing that the first voice she had heard on coming as from another world had been the voice of Pete, and the first name dinned into her ears had been Pete's name. The procession of the Deemster's funeral passed the house, and she closed her eyes and seemed to see it--the coffin on the open cart, the men on horseback riding beside it, and then the horses tied up to posts and gates about the churchyard, and the crowd of men of all conditions at the grave-side. In her mind's eye, Kate was searching through that crowd for somebody. Was _he_ there? Had he heard what had happened to her? She fell into a doze, and was awakened by a horse's step on the road, and the voices of two men talking as they came nearer. “Man alive, the joy I'm taking to see you! The tallygraph? Coorse not. Knew I'd find you at the funeral, though.” It was Pete. “But I meant to come over after it.” It was Philip, and Kate's heart stood still. The voices were smothered for a moment (as the buzzing is when the bees enter the hive), and then began with as sharper ring from the rooms below. “How's she now, Mrs. Cregeen?” said the voice of Philip. “Better, sir--much better,” answered Grannie. “No return of the unconsciousness?” “Aw, no,” said Grannie. “Was she”--Kate thought the voice faltered--“was she delirious?” “Not rambling at all,” replied Grannie. “Thank God,” said Philip, and Kate felt a long breath of relief go through the air. “I didn't hear of it until this morning,” said Philip. “The postman told me at breakfast-time, and I called on Dr. Mylechreest coming out. If I had known----I didn't sleep much last night, anyway; but if I had ever imagined----” “You're right good to the girl, sir,” said Grannie, and then Kate, listening intently, caught a quavering sound of protestation.