They lingered together for a few minutes in the sitting-room, Abbie, Ester, Ralph and Mr. Foster.  They had been having a half sad, half merry talk.  It was the evening before the wedding.  Ere this time to-morrow Abbie would have left them, and in just a little while the ocean would roll between them.  Ester drew a heavy sigh as she thought of it all.  This magic three weeks, which had glowed in beauty for her, such, as she told herself, her life would never see again, were just on the eve of departure; only two days now before she would carry that same restless, unhappy heart back among the clattering dishes in that pantry and dining-room at home.  Ralph broke the little moment of silence which had fallen between them.  “Foster, listen to the sweet tones of that distant clock.  It is the last time that you, being a free man, will hear it strike five.”

“Unless I prove to be an early riser on the morrow, which necessity will compel me to become if I tarry longer here at present.  Abbie, I must be busy this entire evening.  That funeral obliged me to defer some important business matters that I meant should have been dispatched early in the day.”

“It isn’t possible that you have been to a funeral to-day!  How you do mix things.”  Ralph uttered this sentence in real or pretended horror.

“Why not?” Mr. Foster answered gently, and added:  “It is true though; life and death are very strangely mixed.  It was our little Sabbath-school girl, Sallie, whom we laid to rest to-day.  It didn’t jar as some funerals would have done; one had simply to remember that she had reached home.  Miss Ester, if you will get that package for me I will execute your commission with pleasure.”

Ester went away to do his bidding, and Ralph, promising to meet him at the store in an hour, sauntered away, and for a few moments Abbie and Mr. Foster talked together alone.

“Good-by all of you,” he said smiling, as he glanced back at the two girls a few moments later.  “Take care of her, Ester, until I relieve you.  It will not be long now.”

“Take care,” Ester answered gaily; “you have forgotten the ‘slip’ that there may be ‘between the cup and the lip.’”

But he answered her with an almost solemn gravity:  “I never forget that more worthy expression of the same idea, we know not what a day may bring forth; but I always remember with exceeding joy that God knows, and will lead us.”

“He is graver than ten ministers,” Ester said, as they turned from the window.  “Come, Abbie, let us go up stairs.”

It was two hours later when Abbie entered the sitting-room where Ester awaited her, and curled herself into a small heap of white muslin at Ester’s feet.

“There!” said she, with a musical little laugh, “mother has sent me away.  The measure of her disgust is complete now.  Dr. Downing is in the sitting-room, and I have been guilty of going in to see him.  Imagine such a fearful breach of etiquette taking place in the house of Ried!  Do you know, I don’t quite know what to do with myself.  There is really nothing more to busy myself about, unless I eat the wedding cake.”