stairs; the old
lady had told her they were going to live with their daughter. Carroll
roused herself and lit the gas, and a little while later there came a
tap at the door. She was frightened for a second, the sound was so
unexpected, and then with a laugh at her foolishness she went to the
door and opened it, revealing an old man, her neighbor from the floor
below. He held a rather heavy package in his arms, and explained, rather
shamefacedly, that they had no high-chair, and when their little
grandchild was brought to visit them Mrs. Bell had been accustomed to
lend them her big dictionary. "Not bein' literary she didn't need it,
and the very afternoon of the day she died I came up to borrow it, same
as usual; she had stepped out, but the door was ajar, and the
dictionary lying right on the end of the divan, so I took it, and when I
brought it back after supper I couldn't get in, and after the trouble my
wife wrapped it up and put it away for safe-keeping, Miss, and forgot it
till we come to move," he finished breathlessly.

He put the package on the divan, and Carroll talked with him a few
moments longer, and then locked the door upon his retreating form and
went to the window, and stood there, looking out, yet seeing nothing. It
was beginning to rain, and the cool, damp air was pleasant, but she
shivered and turned back to the room that still kept its silent
mistress' secret, as she had kept it, even in death. The little clock on
the mantel struck ten, and there was a quick, light step on the stair,
and a brisk knock at her door. As she opened it, Frank stood there,
shaking the drops of water from his hat.

"I've had my walk," he said, "I've got over my gloom; I've lost my
grouch, but I still have my appetite with me. Now come on, like a good
fellow, and let's have supper."

"Oh, go away, Frank," she said, almost crying with vexation. "I was
almost on the verge of something when you came."

"That's what I thought," he said cheerfully. "I said, 'She'll drink a
pint of strong tea and sit there in the dark until the rugs begin to
wiggle and the wall paper glowers at her.' You're on the verge of
nervous prostration; that's what you're on the verge of, and nothing
else. Now come along, or have I got to come over there and make you?" He
noticed her negligee. "Put on your frock, and I'll wait, but hurry."

"It's raining," she demurred, "and I haven't my raincoat here."

"I brushed by one in the hall," he said, and