the two black dresses for every-day wear, the two night-dresses of
Canton flannel, the woolen underskirt and the lighter one for summer,
the heavy stockings, the Sunday shoes, a life of John Calvin that a
director had given her, her Bible--and the packing was completed.

When Mrs. Smith came herself to tell her that Mr. Thornton had
arrived, and in a motor car, she trembled so that she feared she
would not be able to go down to meet him. But finally she put on the
little bonnet that she had worn for many years, and her "mantle"--an
antiquated wrap that had been given her by some kindly patron of
former years--and went down the stairs. Mr. Thornton looked at the
little old lady as she came into the room--this little, kindly-faced,
white-haired old woman, who showed so plainly that life had sent her
sorrow but not bitterness--and offered her his hand, saying:

"I am glad you are ready, Miss Doane. We will have a nice ride to
the city."

Drusilla looked up at him like a pitiful child.

"I--I--may I set down a minute--I--I'm rather trembly. I--I didn't
sleep last night a-thinkin' of it all."

She sat down and tried to still the trembling of her lips and keep
the tears from her eyes. Then, after a few moments, she said:

"Will you wait here or somewhere, Mr. Thornton? I want to say good-by.
Mis' Smith thought I hadn't better see the ladies until I was ready to
leave, as it might upset them."