Old Yare pointed it out to Mrs.
Polston one day.
"My girl's far off frum us," he said, sobbing in the kitchen,--"my girl's far off now." It was the last night of the year that she died.

She was so much better that they all were quite cheerful.

Kitts went away as it grew dark, and she bade him wrap up his throat with such a motherly dogmatism that they all laughed at her; she, too, with the rest.
"I'll make you a New-Year's call," he said, going out; and she called out that she should be sure to expect him.
She seemed so strong that Holmes and Mrs.Polston and Margret, who were there, were going home; besides, old Yare said, "I'd like to take care o' my girl alone to-night, ef yoh'd let me,"-- for they had not trusted him before.

But Lois asked them not to go until the Old Year was over; so they waited down-stairs.
The old man fell asleep, and it was near midnight when he wakened with a cold touch on his hand.
"It's come, father!" He started up with a cry, looking at the new smile in her eyes, grown strangely still.
"Call them all, quick, father!" Whatever was the mystery of death that met her now, her heart clung to the old love that had been true to her so long.
He did not move.
"Let me hev yoh to myself, Lo, 't th' last; yoh're all I hev; let me hev yoh 't th' last." It was a bitter disappointment, but she roused herself even then to smile, and tell him yes, cheerfully.

You call it a trifle, nothing?
It may be; yet I think the angels looking down had tears in their eyes, when they saw the last trial of the unselfish, solitary heart, and kept for her a different crown from his who conquers a city.
The fire-light grew warmer and redder; her eyes followed it, as if all that had been bright and kindly in her life were coming back in it.
She put her hand on her father, trying vainly to smooth his gray hair.
The old man's heart smote him for something, for his sobs grew louder, and he left her a moment; then she saw them all, faces very dear to her even then.