evenly. The old man made his
bargains, cutting them perhaps a trifle less keenly than in former
years. The lad, approaching young manhood, did his daily work, and drank
yet deeper of the waters of knowledge, becoming day by day more
conscious of his power, more full of hope and high ambition for the
future. And the child Gladys, approaching womanhood also, contentedly
performed her lowly tasks, and dreamed her dreams likewise, sometimes
wondering vaguely how long this monotonous, grey stream would flow on,
yet not wishing it disturbed, lest greater ills than she knew might
beset her way.

Again winter came, and just when spring was gathering up her skirts to
spread them benignly over the earth, a great change came, a very great
change indeed.

It was a March day--cold, bitter, blustering east winds tearing through
the streets, catching the breath with a touch of ice--when the old man,
who to the observant eye had become of late decrepit and very
frail-looking, came shivering down from his warehouse, and, creeping to
the fire, tried to warm his chilled body, saying he felt himself very
ill.

'I think you should go to bed, uncle, and Walter will go for the
doctor,' said Gladys, in concern. 'Shall I call him now?'

'No; I'll go to bed, and you can give me some toddy. There's my keys;
you'll get the bottle on the top shelf of the press in the office. I
won't send for the doctor yet. You can't get them out when once they get
a foot in, and their fees are scandalous. No, I'll have no doctors
here.'

Gladys knew very well that it was useless to dispute his decision, and,
taking his keys, ran lightly up-stairs to the warehouse.

'I am afraid Uncle Abel is quite ill, Walter,' she said, as she unlocked
the cupboard. 'He shivers very much, and looks so strangely. Do you not
think we should have the doctor?'

'Yes; but he won't have him. I think he looks very bad. He's been bad
for days, and his cough is awful, but he won't give in.'

'If he is not better to-morrow, you will just go for the doctor
yourself, Walter. After he is here, uncle can't say much,' said Gladys
thoughtfully. 'I will do what I can for him to-day. I am afraid he looks
very like papa. I don't like his eyes.'

She took the bottle down, and retired again, with a nod and a
smile--the only inspiration known to the soul of Walter. It was not of
the old man he thought as he busied himself among the goods, but of the
fair girl who had come to him in his de