er, and a fresh cup of
tea; but Mr. Lindsay had fallen into the depths of the moss, and took
no notice of either.

She left the room, but presently returned, knitting in hand, and
stood, unnoticed, in the doorway, glancing from time to time at the
minister. He certainly was "a sight to behold," as she said to
herself. She may have thought other things beside, but her face gave
no sign. Presently the bell began to ring for Wednesday evening
meeting. Mrs. Mellen glanced again at the minister, but he heard
nothing. The botany was open before him, and he was muttering strange
words that sounded like witch-talk.

"Stamens six, hypogenous! anthers introrse! capsule cartilaginous,
loculicidally three-valved, scurfy-leaved epiphytic!" What did it all
mean? A slow flush crept over the woman's broad, placid face; her
eyelids quivered, her eye roamed restlessly about the room. She
shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and breathed heavily,
as if in distress; and still her eyes came back to the slender figure
in the great chair, bent in absorbed interest over the table.

Ding! dong! ding! the notes came dropping through the air, clear and
resonant. Even a deaf person might hear them, perhaps. Mrs. Mellen was
evidently struggling with herself. Once she opened her lips as if to
speak; once she stepped forward with outstretched hand, as if to shake
the man into wakefulness and attention; but she did not speak, and her
hand dropped again; and presently the bell stopped, and Sophronia
Mellen went away to her sitting-room, hanging her head.

Half an hour later there was knocking at the door, and the sound of
many voices, anxious voices, pitched high and loud, on account of Mrs.
Mellen's deafness.

"How's Mr. Lindsay? When was he took sick? Have ye had the doctor?"

"Do you think it's ketchin', Mis' Mellen? Think of all the young
children in this parish, if anythin' should get the rounds! My! it's
awful!"

"How does he look? Some say he was pupple in the face when they see
him coming home through the street. Most everybody did see him, and he
was a sight! Apoplexy, most likely!"

"Has he ever had fits, think? he don't look fitty, but you never can
tell."

"Have ye sent for his folks? You'd feel better to, I sh'd think, if
he's taken; some say he has a mother rollin' in wealth, down Brunswick
way."

"Well, some say he ain't nothin' of the sort. Christiana Bean saw an
aunt of his once, and she hadn't flesh enough on h