lived, lonely if not alone. The doctor had sent a trained nurse,
and Mrs. Sampson, with muffled step, came in from time to time;
but both, to Mrs. Manstey, seemed remote and unsubstantial as the
figures in a dream. All day she said nothing; but when she was
asked for her daughter's address she shook her head. At times
the nurse noticed that she seemed to be listening attentively for
some sound which did not come; then again she dozed.

The next morning at daylight she was very low. The nurse called
Mrs. Sampson and as the two bent over the old woman they saw her
lips move.

"Lift me up--out of bed," she whispered.

They raised her in their arms, and with her stiff hand she
pointed to the window.

"Oh, the window--she wants to sit in the window. She used to sit
there all day," Mrs. Sampson explained. "It can do her no harm,
I suppose?"

"Nothing matters now," said the nurse.

They carried Mrs. Manstey to the window and placed her in her
chair. The dawn was abroad, a jubilant spring dawn; the spire
had already caught a golden ray, though the magnolia and horse-
chestnut still slumbered in shadow. In Mrs. Black's yard all was
quiet. The charred timbers of the balcony lay where they had
fallen. It was evident that since the fire the builders had not
returned to their work. The magnolia had unfolded a few more