interruption.

Draxy's breakfast and dinner were carried to her room, and every
provision made for her comfort. Stephen Potter's servants obeyed him
always. No friend of the family could have been more scrupulously served
than was Draxy Miller. The man-servant carried her bag to the station,
touched his hat to her as she stepped on board the train, and returned to
the house to say in the kitchen: "Well, I don't care what she come for;
she was a real lady, fust to last, an' that's more than Mr. Potter's got
for a wife, I tell you."

When Stephen Potter went into his library after bidding Draxy good-by, he
found on the table a small envelope addressed to him. It held this note:--

"MR. POTTER:--I would not take the paper [the word 'money' had been
scratched out and the word 'paper' substituted] for myself; but I think I
ought to for my father, because it was a true debt, and he is an old man
now, and not strong.

"I am very sorry for you, Mr. Potter, and I hope you will become happy
again. DRAXY MILLER."

Draxy had intended to write, "I hope you will be 'good' again," but her
heart failed her. "Perhaps he will understand that 'happy' means good,"
she said, and so wrote the gentler phrase. Stephen Potter did understand;
and the feeble outreachings which, during the few miserable years more of
his life, he made towards uprightness, were partly the fruit of Draxy
Miller's words.

Draxy's journey home was uneventful. She was sad and weary. The first