nervousness of fatigue and anxiety accentuated her grief. 'She was
asking me how much butter we made in the dairy to-day, and asking if the
curly cow had her calf, and what Jeanie Trim was doing.'

'Who was Jeanie Trim?' asked the minister.

'How should I know? I suppose she was one of the Kelsey servants.'

'Curious,' ejaculated the minister. 'This Jeanie will have grown old and
died, perhaps, forty years ago, and my aunt's speaking of her as if she
was a young thing at work in the next room!'

'And what did you say to Mistress Macdonald?' the doctor asked, with a
cheerful purpose in his tone.

'I explained to her that her poor head was wandering.'

'Nay, now, but, Miss Macdonald, I'm thinking if I were you I would tell
her that the curly cow had her calf.'

'I never'--tearfully--'told my mother a falsehood in my life, except
when I was a very little girl, and then'--Miss Macdonald paused to wipe
her eyes--'she spoke to me so beautifully out of the Bible about it.'

The married sister chimed in mournfully, 'How often have I heard my
mother say that not one of her children had ever told her a lie!'

'Yes, yes, but----' There was a tone in the doctor's voice as if he
would like to have used a strong word, but he schooled himself.