CHAPTER XX.
The suspense was very hard for Lois Howe to bear.
When Mrs.Dale drove her from the sick-room for air and exercise, she wandered restlessly about the rectory, or went to Mr.Denner's door to beg a word of encouragement from Mary, or take a momentary comfort from the messages he sent her that he was better, and he begged she would not allow herself the slightest discomfort; it was really of no consequence,--no consequence at all.
Gifford was almost always with the little gentleman, and scarcely left him, even to walk through the garden to the grassy street with Lois.

On Sunday, however, late in the afternoon, he went home with her; for Mr.
Dale, with whom she had come, was going to sit awhile with Mr.Denner, and Gifford felt he could be spared.
The hour was full of that peculiar Sunday afternoon quiet which seems to subdue even the crickets and the birds.

There was a breath of fragrance from some fresh-cut grass, still wet from a noon thunder shower, which had left the air crystal-clear and fresh.

Their shadows stretched far ahead along the road, where the dust was still damp, though the setting sun poured a flood of yellow light behind them.

Lois walked as though very tired; she scarcely noticed her companion, and did not speak except to answer his questions.
"Isn't there any change in Mrs.Forsythe ?" he asked, with anxious sympathy.
Lois shook her head.