to speech. Her eyes blazed at the sight
of Rosemary and she tried to sit up in bed, but could not.

"When?" asked Rosemary.

"Just now," Aunt Matilda answered. "I was asleep, and when I woke up I
heard her. She must have woke me up. What shall we do?" she continued,
helplessly, after a pause.

[Sidenote: A Lie]

"I don't know," Rosemary whispered, almost stunned by the shock. "I'll
dress and go for the doctor."

In an hour she had returned with the physician, who felt the old lady's
pulse, and shook his head. In the hall, he interviewed the other two.

"Has she had any shock?" he asked.

For a moment there was no answer, then Matilda answered clearly: "No."

"No," echoed Rosemary.

"No unusual excitement of any sort? Or no bad news?"

"Not that I know of," Matilda replied, calmly.

"Nothing unusual," Rosemary assured him.

"Extraordinary!" he murmured. "I'll be in again this afternoon."

When he had gone, Aunt Matilda turned anxiously to Rosemary. "Do you
think we did right? Shouldn't we have told him?"

"I don't know what difference it could make," Rosemary replied,
thoughtfully. "I'd hate to have anybody know what she's done. Maybe it's
my fault," she went on, sadly. "Perhaps I shouldn't have told her."

"Don't go to blaming yourself, Rosemary. I don't know why you shouldn't
have told her. If I'd been you, I'd have told her long ago--or had you
just found it out?"

[Sidenote: Unable to Speak]

"I've known for quite a while. I don't think I'd have said anything,
though, if I wasn't going to be married. It didn't seem as if I could be
married in brown gingham when father meant for me to have everything I
wanted and the money was there."

"Don't worry about it for a minute," said Aunt Matilda, kindly. "You've
done just right and you ain't to blame for what's happened. It's her own
fault."

Rosemary prepared a breakfast tray and Matilda took it up. "It's better
for you to stay away, Rosemary," she said, "for we don't want her to get
excited." When she returned, she reported that the old lady had, with
evident difficulty, eaten a little oatmeal and choked down a cup of
coffee. She was calmer, but unable to speak.

The unaccustomed silence of the house affected them both strangely.
Grandmother might be up-stairs and helpless but the powerful impress of
her personality still lingered in the rooms below. Her red-and-black
plaid shawl, hanging from the back of her chair, conveyed a subtle
restraint;