before him, and his busy wife making music
about the house with her cheerful, hopeful talk,--he looked like a man
to be envied; and so just then he was.

The next morning he did not fulfil his promise to himself by rising
early; he had been restless and feverish all night, and now was chilly.
If he lay till breakfast was ready, he would feel better, Jenny said;
she could milk, to be sure, and do all the rest of the work, and so he
was persuaded. But when the breakfast was ready the chilliness had
become a downright chill, so that the blankets that were over him shook
like leaves in a strong wind.

Jenny had a little money of her own hidden away in the bottom of the new
cream-pitcher. She had saved it, unknown to Hobert, from the sale of
eggs and other trifles, and had meant to surprise him by appearing in a
new dress some morning when the church-bell rang; but now she turned the
silver into her hand and counted it, thinking what nice warm flannel it
would buy to make shirts for Hobert. Of course he had them, and Jenny
had not made any sacrifice that she knew of,--indeed, that is a word of
which love knows not the meaning.

"We will have him up in a day or two," the women said, one to the other,
as they busied themselves about the house, or sat at the bedside, doing
those things that only the blessed hands of women can do, making those
plans that only the loving hearts of women can make. But the day or two
went by, and they didn't have Hobert up. Then they said to one another,
"We must set to work in earnest; we have really done nothing for him as
yet." And they plied their skill of nursing with new hope and new
energy. Every morning he told them he was better, but in the afternoon
it happened that he didn't feel quite like stirring about; he was still
better, but he had a little headache, and was afraid of bringing on a
chill.

"To be sure! you need rest and quiet; you have been working too hard,
and it's only a wonder you didn't give out sooner!" So the two women
said to him; and then they told him he looked better than he did
yesterday, and, with much tender little caressing of neck and arms and
hands, assured him that his flesh felt as healthy and nice as could be.
Nevertheless, his eyes settled deeper and deeper, and gathered more and
more of a leaden color about them; his skin grew yellow, and fell into
wrinkles that were almost rigid, and that beseeching, yearning
expression, made up of confidence in you, and