at you owe to society."

"Indeed, I do think of my friends and relations very much, and I
should have liked, of all things, to have been with you
yesterday. You ought to be pitying me, instead of scolding me."

"My dear Katie, you know I didn't mean to scold you; and nobody
admires the way you give yourself up to visiting, and all that
sort of thing, more than I; only you ought to have a little
pleasure sometimes. People have a right to think of themselves
and their own happiness a little."

"Perhaps I don't find visiting and all that sort of thing so very
miserable. But now, Tom, you saw in my letter that poor Betty's
son has got into trouble?"

"Yes; and that is what brought on her attack, you said."

"I believe so. She was in a sad state about him all
yesterday,--so painfully eager and anxious. She is better today,
but still I think it would do her good if you would see her, and
say you will be a friend to her son. Would you mind?"

"It was just what I wished to do yesterday. I will do all I can
for him, I'm sure. I always liked him as a boy; you can tell her
that. But I don't feel, somehow--today, at least--as if I could
do any good by seeing her."

"Oh, why not?"

"I don't think I'm in the right humor. Is she very ill?"

"Yes, very ill indeed; I don't think she can recover."

"Well, you see, Katie, I'm not used to death-beds. I shouldn't
say the right sort of thing."

"How do you mean--the right sort of thing?"

"Oh, you know. I couldn't talk to her about her soul. I'm not fit
for it, and it isn't my place."

"No, indeed, it isn't. But you can remind her of old times and
say a kind word about her son."

"Very well, if you don't think I shall do any harm."

"I'm sure it will comfort her. And now tell me about yesterday."

They sat talking for some time in the same low tone, and Tom
began to forget his causes of quarrel with the world, and gave an
account of the archery party from his own point of view. Katie
saw, with a woman's quickness, that he avoided mentioning Mary,
and smiled to herself and drew her own conclusions.

At last, there was a slight movement in the cottage, and laying
her hand on his arm, she got up quickly, and went in. In a few
minutes she came to the door again.

"How is she?" asked Tom.

"Oh, much the same; but she has waked without pain, which is a
great blessing. Now, are you ready?"

"Yes; you must go with me."

"Come in, then." She turned, and he followed into t