Where could he be?
It was growing late when Matthew got up to go.

He had tried his best to comfort his old neighbor in her sorrow.

He had used up all his saws and proverbs that were in the remotest degree appropriate to the occasion, and he had thrown in a few that were not remarkable for appositeness or compatibility.

All alike had passed by unheeded.

The dame had taken the good will for the good deed, and had not looked the gift-horses too closely in the mouth.
"Good night, Mattha Branthet," she said, in answer to his good by; "good night, and God bless thee." Matthew had opened the door, and was looking out preparatory to his final leavetaking.
"The sky's over-kessen to-neet," he said.