Call him Chalmers. He's Lockwin, just the same, but call him Chalmers."

The wife kisses her husband, and puts the letter back in the drawer.

"Sissy."

"Yes."

"I forgot one thing. Git a little mourning handkerchief out of my
hip-pocket. There ain't no gun there. You needn't be afraid."

The woman at last secures a handkerchief which looks the worse for
Corkey's long, though reverent, custody.

"Wash it, sissy, and show it up to Mrs. Lockwin. I reckon it will
steer her back to the day when she felt pretty good toward me. Be
careful of that Harpwood. He ain't no use. I know it. She give me
that wipe her own self--yes, she did! God bless her."

The woman once more kisses the sick man.

"The gold, sissy!"

"Never mind it," she says.

"You think it's some good--this letter--don't you, sissy?"

"Of course I do."

"I'm much obliged to you, sissy. Let in those people, now."