always wound the clock on Sundays.

"Are you sure you wound her yesterday, Evelina?"

"Jest as sure as I live. She must be broke. I'll go and
see."

Evelina laid down the hat she was trimming, and took the clock
from its shelf.

"There--I knew it! She's wound jest as TIGHT--what you
suppose's happened to her, Ann Eliza?"

"I dunno, I'm sure," said the elder sister, wiping her
spectacles before proceeding to a close examination of the clock.

With anxiously bent heads the two women shook and turned it,
as though they were trying to revive a living thing; but it
remained unresponsive to their touch, and at length Evelina laid it
down with a sigh.

"Seems like somethin' DEAD, don't it, Ann Eliza? How
still the room is!"

"Yes, ain't it?"

"Well, I'll put her back where she belongs," Evelina
continued, in the tone of one about to perform the last offices for
the departed. "And I guess," she added, "you'll have to step round
to Mr. Ramy's to-morrow, and see if he can fix her."