he asked. "She doesn't grow any worse, and won't until
spring, and this close confinement is absolutely killing me! Why, I've
lost six pounds in six months, and you'll see to her, I know you will.
You're a good girl, and I like you, if I did get angry with you, weeks
ago when I went a hunting."

'Lena knew he ought not to go, and she tried hard to convince him of
the fact, telling him how much pleasure she had felt in observing his
improved manner toward Mabel, and that he must not spoil it now.

"It's no use talking," said he, "I'm bent on going somewhere. I've
tried to be good, I know, but the fact is, I can't stay _put_. It
isn't my nature. I shan't tell Meb till just before I start, for I
hate scenes."

"And suppose she dies while you are gone?" asked 'Lena.

John was beginning to grow impatient, for he knew he was wrong, and
rather tartly he answered, as he left the room, "Give her a decent
burial, and present the bill to mother!"

"The next morning, as 'Lena sat alone with Mabel, John Jr. entered,
dressed and ready for his journey. But he found it harder telling his
wife than he had anticipated. She looked unusually pale this morning.
The sallowness of her complexion was all gone, and on either cheek
there burned a round, bright spot. 'Lena had just been arranging her
thick, glossy hair, and now, wholly exhausted, she reclined upon her
pillows, while her large black eyes, unnaturally bright, sparkled with
joy at the sight of her husband. But they quickly filled with tears
when told that he was going away, and had come to say good-bye.

"It's only to New Orleans and back," he said, as he saw her changing
face. "I shan't be gone long, and 'Lena will take care of you a heap
better than I can."

"It isn't that," answered Mabel, wiping her tears away. "Don't go,
John. Wait a little while. I'm sure it won't be long."

"You are nervous," said he, playfully lapping her white cheek. "You're
not going to die. You'll live to be grandmother yet, who knows? But I
must be off or lose the train. Good bye, little Meb," grasping her
hand, "Good-bye, 'Lena. I'll bring you both something nice--good-bye."

When she saw that he was going, Mabel asked him to come back to her
bedside just for one moment. He could not refuse, and winding her
long, emaciated arms around his neck, she whispered, "Kiss me once
before you go. I shall never ask it again, and 'twill make me happier
when you are gone."

"A dozen