rests, regulations, and restrictions--was coming, gathering up its
wastage into its blue-gray depths.

Joe was speaking again. His voice was suddenly clearer.

"I wonder," he was saying, "if you'd mind goin' for Zeke Thompson and
sendin' him up to me? I want him to go somewhere for me. And will
you--will you call up Mr. Clausen of the Pulvia Company and tell him
I'll get back on the job soon's I can? To-morrow'll do to call him
up."

"Surely I will, Joe," she replied.

The door opened softly from the hall and Mrs. Mosby appeared, shading
a lamp with her hand. "Keep your seat." she exclaimed as Mary Louise
rose to her feet. "I'm just getting ready to bring him his supper."
Then she went back out again.

Mary Louise bent over the bed. The lamp was directly behind her and
she could not see for blurring.

"Do take care of yourself, Joe," she whispered. "I'll come back again
to-morrow," and then she slipped noiselessly from the room.

Directly Mrs. Mosby returned with a steaming tray which she set on the
little table by the bedside. "Has she gone?" she asked.

Joe turned and looked with indifference at the tray, with its white
napkins and egg-shell china. "Don't believe I want anything much, Aunt
Lorry," he said.

"Come now, Joseph. You must. I've a soft-boiled egg and some milk
toast and cocoa. Dr. Withers says you must keep up your strength."

He turned languidly away. "And Aunt Lorry," he added.

"Yes?"

"I don't need anything--specially this sympathy stuff." He paused and
frowned at the ceiling. "I don't--I don't want to have any company.
Reckon I can get along all right."

Ten minutes later she carried away the tray with the food on it but
scarcely touched. And he lay in the gathering darkness, watching the
ceiling, with the wavering circles from the open fire and the soft
whisper of the wind in the withered leaves outside the window. There
came a gentle patter of rain on the roof and night slipped down upon
Bloomfield. He sighed gently, turned his head, and fell asleep....

* * * * *

Some four blocks away a girl was walking--swiftly, her hands clenched
so that the knuckles were white. Bright spots burned in her cheeks and
her eyes were deep and starry with bright vision. A man, passing
close, turned and watched her curiously, saw her enter a wooden gate.
A few feet from a darkened porch she seemed to spring forward in her
haste. He saw her run up the steps and disappea