ays knows what he is about, Mrs. Tree. Are there
still candied cherries in the sandalwood cupboard? I know the orange
cordial is there in the gold-glass decanter with the little fat gold
tumblers."

"Yes, the cordial is there," said Mrs. Tree. "It's a pity I can't give
you a glass, Willy; you'll need it directly, but you can't have it. Feel
better, hey?"

William Jaquith raised his head, and met the keen kindness of her eyes;
for the first time a smile broke over his face, a smile of singular
sweetness.

"Why, yes, Mrs. Tree!" he said. "I feel better than I have since--I
don't know when. I feel--almost--like a man again. It's better than the
cordial just to look at you, and smell the wood, and feel the fire. What
a pity one cannot die when one wants to. This would be ceasing on the
midnight without pain, wouldn't it?"

"Why don't you give up drink?" asked Mrs. Tree, abruptly.

"Where's the use?" said Jaquith. "I would if there were any use, but
Mother's dead."

"Cat'sfoot-fiddlestick-folderol-fudge!" blazed the old woman. "She's no
more dead than I am. Don't talk to me! hold on to yourself now, Willy
Jaquith, and don't make a scene; it is a thing I cannot abide. It was
Maria Jaquith that died, over at East Corners. Small loss she was, too.
None of that family was ever worth their salt. The fool who writes for
the papers put her in 'Mary,' and gave out that she died here in
Elmerton just because they brought her here to bury. They've always
buried here in the family lot, as if they were of some account. I was
afraid you might hear of it, Willy, and wrote to the last place I heard
of you in, but of course it was no use. Mary Jaquith is alive, I tell
you. Now where are you going?"

Jaquith had started to his feet, dead white, his eyes shining like
candles.

"To Mother!"

"Yes, I would! wake her up out of a sound sleep at ten o'clock at night,
and scare her into convulsions. Sit down, Willy Jaquith; _do as I tell
you_! There! feel pretty well, hey? Your mother is blind."

"Oh, Mother! Mother! and I have left her alone all this time."

"Exactly! now don't go into a caniption, for it won't do any good. You
must go to bed now, and, what's more, go to sleep; and we'll go down
together in the morning. Here's Direxia now with the gruel. There! hush!
don't say a word!"

The old serving-woman entered bearing a silver tray, on which was a
covered bowl of India china, a small silver saucepan, and something
covered wi