He had met the little ladies walking arm in arm up and down one of the shady paths of their walled garden.

Miss Ruth still held her trowel in her hand, and her shabby gloves were stained by the weeds she had pulled up.
"Oh, there you are, dear Giff," she cried; "we were just looking for you.
Pray, how is Mr.Denner ?" Gifford's serious face answered her without words, and none of the group spoke for a moment.

Then Gifford said, "It cannot last much longer.

You see, he suffers very much at night; it doesn't seem as though he could live through another." "Oh, dear me," said Miss Ruth, wiping her eyes with the frankest grief, "you don't say so!" "Haven't you just heard him say so, sister ?" asked Miss Deborah, trying to conceal an unsteady lip by a show of irritation.

"Do pay attention." "I did, dear Deborah," returned Miss Ruth, "but I cannot bear to believe it." "Your believing it, or not, doesn't alter the case unfortunately.