"I must go and see him!" she said: "help me into his

room!"

"Oh, you cannot !" cried Miss Dilworth, supporting her with one arm around her waist. "Lie down: you are not strong enough. He will be able to come to you in a day or two."

"No, no! to-day!" gasped the housekeeper. "I a'n't certain o' knowin' him to-morrow, or o' bein' able to say to him what I've got to say." Thereupon her temporary strength gave way, and she sank down on the bed in a fainting state.

After she had somewhat revived, Miss Dilworth took counsel with herself, and soon came to a decision. She went down stairs and summoned Patrick, who carefully wrapped up Bute and placed him in the arm-chair. She herself then assisted in carrying him into the housekeeper's room, and placing him by the bedside. A look of unspeakable fondness came over Mrs. Babb's haggard face; the tears silently flowed from her eyes and rolled down the wrinkles in her hollow cheeks.

"Cheer up, Mother Forty," said Bute, who was the first to speak. "I'm gittin' on famous' and 'll soon be round again."

"It's as it should be, Arbutus," she whispered, hoarsely, catching her breath between the words; "the old 'un 'll go and the young 'un 'll stay. 'T had to be one of us."

"Don't say that; we'll take care of you-Carrie and me. Won't we, Carrie ?"

"Yes, Bute," said Carrie, with her handkerchief to her eyes.

Mrs. Babb looked from one to another, but without any sign of reproof. She feebly shook her head. "What must be must," said she; "my time's come. P'raps I sha'n't see you no more, Arbutus. Maybe I ha'n't done my duty by you always; maybe I've seemed hard, once't and a while, but I meant it for your good, and I don't want you to have any hard thoughts ag'in me when I'm gone."

"Mother Forty !" cried Bute, his eyes filling and overflow

aiwm mi ay Z dne my CITY 1 TOL

Buna somi not move: le va eng lhe a dia He wii devrin dhe na Is Déviri pu br rn round in vasi maviy um, må det små d’wi ngeder a ther Ise tesude the bed Bone's head flirward in the overa The ionskeeper just ind i imis ma i

-Take my bussen, dll? me suit in a fectier voice - Tou're tem a good boy. Afton alie, of II tel Maybe I'll inre a een berwin ber sol Jasa All I save" be To Buy musta't stay bere: say goodby to me wir

you bow me, vil at fered Mis Carrie

The left baudowly moved to her bead, and rested there. * Be a good wife to him when the time comes, and I'll bless you always. There a'n't many like him, and I hope you know it."

"I do know it," she sobbed; "there's nobody like him.”

"I want you to leave the money where it is," said the housekeeper, "and only draw the interest. You'll have an easier time of it in your old days than what I've had; but I don't begrudge it to you. It's time you were goin'—say good by, child!"

The sempstress, small as she was, lifted Bute until his fostermother could catch and hold his head to her bosom. Then, for the first time in his remembrance, she kissed him, once, twice, not with any violent outburst of feeling, but with a tender gravity as if it were a necessary duty, the omission of which would not be agreeable to Jason Babb. Then she turned over on the pillow, saying "Amen!" and was silent. Patrick was summoned and Bute was speedily replaced in his

own bed, where Miss Dilworth left him to resume her place by the housekeeper's side.

But that same night, about midnight, Mrs. Babb died. She scarcely spoke again after her interview with Bute, except to ask, two hours later, whether he seemed to be any the worse on account of it. On being told that he was sleeping quietly, she nodded her head, straightened her gaunt form as well as she was able, and clasped her fingers together over her breast. Thus she lay, as if already dead, her strong eyebrows, her hooked nose, and her sharp chin marking themselves with ghastly distinctness as the cheeks grew more hollow and the closed eyes sank deeper in their sockets. Towards midnight a change in her breathing alarmed Miss Dilworth. She hastily called the old negress, who was sleeping on the kitchen settee.

"Honey," said the latter, in an awe-struck whisper, as she stood by the bedside, "she's a-goin' fast. She soon see de glory. Don't you wish fur her to stay, 'case dat'll interfere wid her goin'."

Her breath grew fainter, and came at longer intervals, but the moment when it ceased passed unnoticed by either of the watchers. Melinda first recognized the presence of Death. "You go an' lay down," she said to Miss Carrie. do no good now. I'll stay wid her till mornin'."

"You can't

The sempstress obeyed, for she was, in truth, wretchedly weary. For the remainder of the night Melinda sat on a low chair beside the corpse, swinging her body backwards and forwards as she crooned, in a low voice:

"De streets is paved wid gold,

Ober on de udder shore."

CHAPTER XXIV.

VARIOUS CHANGES, BUT LITTLE PROGRESS IN THE STORY.

As soon as the news of Mrs. Babb's death became known, the neighbors hastened to Lakeside to offer their help. The necessary arrangements for the funeral were quietly and speedily made, and, on the second day afterwards, the body of the housekeeper was laid beside that of Jason Babb, in the Presbyterian churchyard at Ptolemy, where he had been slumbering for the last twenty-three years. The attendance was very large, for all the farmers' wives in the valley had known Mrs. Babb, and still held her receipts for cakes, preserves, and pickles in high esteem. The Reverends Styles and Waldo made appropriate remarks and prayers at the grave, so that no token of respect was wanting. All the neighbors said, as they drove homewards, "The funeral was a credit to her." Her spirit must have smiled in stern satisfaction, even from its place by Jason's side, and at the feet of Mrs. Dennison, as it looked down and saw that her last unconscious appearance among mortals was a success.

Miss Dilworth took counsel of her friends, Hannah Thurston and Mrs. Waldo, on the day of the funeral. She confessed to them, with returning misgivings, what had taken place between Bute Wilson and herself, and was a little surprised at the hearty gratification which they both expressed.

"How glad I am!" cried Mrs. Waldo; "it is the very thing!"

แ "Yes," said Hannah Thurston, in her grave, deliberate manner, "I think you have made a good choice, Carrie."

If any spark of Miss Caroline Dilworth's old ambition still burned among the ashes of her dreams, it was extinguished at that moment. The prophets of reform were thenceforth dead to her. She even took a consolation in thinking that if her wish had been fulfilled, her future position might have had its embarrassments. She might have been expected to sympathize with ideas which she did not comprehend-to make use of new shibboleths before she had learned to pronounce them -to counterfeit an intelligent appreciation when most conscious of her own incompetency. Now, she would be at ease. Bute would never discover any deficiency in her. She spoke better English and used finer words than he did, and if she made a mistake now and then, he wouldn't even notice it. With the disappearance of her curls her whole manner had become more simple and natural. Her little affectations broke out now and then, it is true, but they had already ceased to be used as baits to secure a sentimental interest. There was even hope that her attachment to Bute would be the means of developing her somewhat slender stock of common-sense.

"Bute says we must be married as soon as he gets well," she said: "he won't wait any longer. Is there any harm in my staying here and taking care of him until he's entirely out of danger?"

Mrs. Waldo reflected a moment. "Certainly none until Mr. Woodbury returns," she said. "Mr. Waldo has answered his letter to Bute, which came this morning. If he leaves Saratoga at once, he will be here in three or four days. The doctor says you are an admirable nurse, and that is reason enough why you should not leave at present."

"The other reason ought to be enough," said Hannah Thurston. "She owes a wife's duty towards him now, when he needs help which she can give. I am sure Mr. Woodbury will see it in the same light. He is noble and honorable."

"Why, Hannah!" cried Mrs. Waldo, "I thought you and he were as far apart as the opposite poles !"

"Perhaps we are, in our views of certain subjects," was the