Little Dan'l stood looking at him, and her lip
quivered. With a mighty effort Daniel cleared
away the veil and saw the piteous baby face. "Take
-- Uncle Dan'l's hat and -- fetch him -- some water,"
he gasped. "Don't go too -- close and -- tumble in."

The child obeyed. Daniel tried to take the drip-
ping hat, but failed. Little Dan'l was wise enough
to pour the water over the old man's head, but she
commenced to weep, the pitiful, despairing wail of
a child who sees failing that upon which she has
leaned for support.

Daniel rallied again. The water on his head gave
him momentary relief, but more than anything else
his love for the child nerved him to effort.

"Listen, little Dan'l," he said, and his voice
sounded in his own ears like a small voice of a soul
thousands of miles away. "You take the -- um-
brella, and -- you take the fan, and you go real slow,
so you don't get overhet, and you tell Mis' Dean,
and --"

Then old Daniel's tremendous nerve, that he had
summoned for the sake of love, failed him, and he
sank back. He was quite unconscious -- his face,
staring blindly up at the terrible sky between the
trees, was to little Dan'l like the face of a stranger.