big red handkerchief comes out. It makes a sharp contrast with his jet
black hair and mustache.

"Old man," he said, "do you suppose your bone-sawers could cut that out
of me? It makes me forgit things sometimes. Oh, yes, yes! That puts
me in mind! I came to tell you this morning that Mrs. Lockwin was
coming over to thank you!"

"It's time," whispers the lover, bravely.

"I told her to come on. She needn't be afraid of you. I tell you she
was mighty glad when I tell her you was a friend of mine."

There is a click at the door-latch. The patient starts. Corkey looks
out into the store.

"Here she is!" whispers Corkey, smoothing the coverlet. "How d'ye do,
Mrs. Lockwin? Just step in here. Mr. Chalmers is not able to sit up."

"I heard he was hurt," says Esther. "Poor man! I owe him so much!"

It is perhaps well that David Lockwin has had no warning of this
supreme event. It seems to him like the last day. It is the Second
Coming. A hundred little wounds set up their stings, for which the
husband is ever thankful. He can hear her out there in the store. He
can feel her presence. She appears at his door! She stands at the
foot of his couch! She, the ineffable!

"Oh!" she exclaims, not expecting to see a man so badly wounded, so
highly bandaged.