into the room. He was haggard and looked broken and old, but
his manner was very gentle when he went to the little old woman and took
her hands.

"I think he scarcely knew he had so many friends at Janney's Mills," he
said. "A great many of them came. When I turned away the earth was
covered with flowers."

He drew her to a chair and sat by her. She put her white head on his arm
and cried.

"He was always so sad," she said. "He thought people never cared for him.
But he was good--he was good. I felt sure they must love him a little. It
will be better for him--_now_."

Miss Amory spoke from her place before the fire, where she stood rigidly,
with a baffled look on her face. Her voice was low and hoarse.

"Yes," she said, with eager pitifulness. "It will be better now."

The little mother lifted her wet face, still clinging to Baird's arm as
she looked up at him.

"And I have it to remember," she sobbed, "that you--_you_ were his
friend, and that for years you made him happier than he had ever been. He
said you gave him a reason for living."

Baird was ashen pale. She stooped and softly kissed the back of his hand.

"Somehow," she said, "you seemed even to comfort him for Margery. He
seemed to bear it better after he knew you. I shall not feel as if they
were quite gone away from me while I can talk to you about them. You will
spare an hour now and then to come and sit with me?" She looked round the
plain, respectable little room with a quiet finality. "I am too old and
tired to live long," she added.

It was Baird who kissed her hand now, with a fervour almost passion. Miss
Amory started at sight of his action, and at the sound of the voice in
which he spoke.

"Talk to me as you would have talked to him," he said. "Think of me as
you would have thought of him. Let me--in God's name, let me do what
there is left me!"

* * * * *

Miss Amory's carriage had waited before the gate, and when she went out
to it Baird went with her.

After he had put her into it he stood a moment on the pavement and looked
at her.

"I want to come with you," he said. "May I?"

"Yes," she answered, and made room for him at her side.

But he took the seat opposite to her and leaned back, shutting his eyes
while Miss Amory's rested upon him. The life and beauty which had been
such ever-present characteristics of his personality seemed to have left
him never to return. Miss Amory's o