Miss Clegg's eyebrows moved understandingly.

"How long is it since you've seen father?" she asked without waiting
for the other to end her sentence.

"Not since your mother died, I guess; I was--"

"I wish you c'd come over 'n' take a look at him now 'n' tell me your
opinion. Why can't you?"

Mrs. Lathrop reflected.

"I don't see why I can't. I'll go in 'n' take off--"

"All right, 'n' when you've got it off, come right over 'n' you'll
find me in the kitchen waitin' for you."

Mrs. Lathrop returned to her own house to shed her apron and wash her
hands, and then sallied over to view Mr. Clegg. The two friends
mounted the stair together, and entered the old man's room.

It was a scrupulously clean and bright and orderly room, and the
invalid in the big white bed bore evidence to the care and attention
so dutifully lavished on him. He was a very wizened little old man,
and his features had been crossed and recrossed by the finger of Time
until their original characteristics were nearly obliterated. The
expression upon his face resembled nothing so much as a sketch which
has been done over so many times that its first design is altogether
lost, and if there was any answer to the riddle, it was not the mental