hispered. "She'd 'a' known we heard it if
she'd 'a' thought. Wish you'd sing a verse of it. It's a hymn, you
know--or was. The chorus is--yet. Anyhow, it's our song. Oh, I'd like to
live on and be a real true Hayle--a Gideon! I hope--hope Hugh
Courteney'll--live. Just think! he was on the _Quakeress_ when Uncle
Dan--.... He's going to do big things some day. Mother--want to tell you
something." She bent closer. He whispered on:

"I wish Hugh Courteney'd live and--marry sis'."

His eyes reclosed and the mother drew back, but he whispered on with
lids unlifted: "Sing--a verse or two--or just the chorus, won't you?"

As softly as to an infant fallen asleep she sang, in her Creole accent,
with eyes streaming:

"Do you billong to Gideon' ban'?
Yere's my 'eart an' yere's my 'an'."

Outside, meantime, before old Joy had quite left the closed door,
another, the second aft of it, opened and the texas tender stepped out.
A fellow servant within shut it, and he started for a near-by stair, but
checked up, amazed, to let Ramsey hasten on for the same point.

But Ramsey halted. "How's the bishop?" she asked him.

"Good Lawd!" he gasped, and then tittered at himself. "I ax yo' pahdon,
miss, I _neveh_ know de Hayles twins 'uz _double_ twins, male 'n'
female. You ax me----?"

"The bishop; how is he now?"

"Well, Miss Hayles--you is Miss Hayles, ain't you? Yit, my Lawd! miss,
ain't I dess now see you down in de cabin a-playin' in de play, an' a
hund'ed people sayin': '_'tis_ her, 'cose it is'?"

"Humph! no, I left as the curtain rose. How's the----?"

"Bishop? Oh, de bishop, he, eh--'bout five-six minute' ago--aw it mowt
be ten--whilse I 'uz down dah--de bishop--I'm bleeds to say--breave his
las'."

"While I--!" She tossed both arms.

"Ummmm, hmmmm!" droned old Joy; "gone to glory!"

"Yass, de good bishop gone to his good bishop!"

"Oh, who was with him?" cried the girl.

"Why, eh"--the three moved on their way--"de doctoh, he 'uz dah, and de
bofe sis' o' charity; yass'm."

"The commodore--wasn't?--Nor the senator--nor----?"

"Oh, yass'm, de commodo', he 'uz dah--faw a spell. He didn' stay till
de--finish. He couldn'. He git slightly indispose', hisseff, an' have to
go to his own room."

The nurse made a meek show of despair and Ramsey turned upon her. "Now,
mammy, this is no time--_now--don't--cry_."

The old woman braced up superbly. "Yass'm," persisted the waiter, "he
dah now, in bed; slightly ind