avagance. As a final step in her
preparation she rubbed her cheeks violently with a rough crash towel,
the resulting brilliant complexion successfully obliterating all traces
of weariness, the flotsam and jetsam of anxious days and haunted
nights. And then with a jauntiness remarkable under the circumstances,
Persis departed, resolved by fair means or foul to distract the
thoughts of Mrs. Nelson Richards from the occupancy of a reserved
apartment in the Heavenly mansions.

Charlotte Richards had always been a pretty woman of that ethereal type
of beauty that is not noticeably diminished by fragility. Persis,
looking her over, estimated that the thirty pounds the doctor credited
her with losing had been appreciably increased since he made his appeal
for aid. At the same time, the dressmaker admitted with grudging
admiration the effectiveness of the picture the invalid presented as
she lay back in her rocking-chair, bright-colored pillows heaped about
her, a slender figure in black, the wide blue eyes matched by the blue
veins in the temples, and with violet shadows below. In the bright,
prosaic little sitting-room she looked as out of place as a Raphael's
cherub in a kindergarten, a creature unmistakably belonging to another
sphere.

"Dear Persis," breathed Mrs. Richards, and extended a transparent hand.
"You'll forgive my not getting up," she added gently.

"Don't mention it." Persis' ringing tones had a heartiness which
seemed plebeian contrasted with Mrs. Richards' subdued murmurs. "You
look the picture of comfort in that big chair. I'd hate to have you
disturb yourself."

The faintest imaginable shadow crossed the other's face.

"I have very little strength, Persis. Day by day I am growing weaker.
But don't think I am complaining. I am quite happy as I lie here
picturing the glories of the New Jerusalem."

"I've found that rare beef was the best thing in the world for that
kind of thoughts," responded Persis. "I buy the round and scrape it.
You can take it raw if it's ice-cold, but I like it best made into a
ball and just scorched on both sides, enough to heat it through."

The invalid's smile was distinctly superior.

"You are trying to encourage me, Persis, but you have nursed too many
of the sick not to see that I'm very near the river. Earthly remedies
are of no avail," declared Mrs. Richards, who had the constitutional
incapacity of numberless people to speak of death and the hereafter,
and