“Send for her and bring her here, where she can have enough to eat.  Why don’t you send for Bessie?” he would say to them; and once he said it to Miss McPherson, who was standing by his bedside, and who replied: 

“I have sent for her; she is coming.”

“All right!” he answered.  “Stuff her when she comes.  Give her all the mince pie she can eat, and all the griddle cakes.  She never saw any at home.”

After that he was more quiet; but every morning and evening he asked, “Has Bessie come?” and when told, “Not yet,” he would reply, “Send her to me when she comes; I want to see her.”

And so the time went on until the fever spent itself, and there came a morning when Grey awoke to perfect consciousness of the present and a vague remembrance of the past.  They told him how long he had been sick, and how anxious they had been.

“Did I talk much?” he asked his Aunt Lucy, when she was alone with him.

“Yes, most of the time,” she replied, and over his face there flitted a shadow of fear lest he had talked of things he ought not.

“What did I say?” he asked; and she told him as nearly as she could remember.

“And Aunt Hannah was here all the time?  Where is she now?” he inquired; and Lucy replied: 

She went home last night, for the first time in two weeks.  She had to go, as the snow had drifted under the eaves, and the house was leaking badly.”

“Is she there alone?” Grey asked, with a shudder, as he thought of that hidden grave under the floor.

“No, Sam is there, and I sent Sarah with her,” was Lucy’s answer, and after a moment Grey continued: 

“Wasn’t Mr. Sanford here once; in the room, I mean?”

“Yes, many times,” Lucy replied.  “He prayed for you here two or three times, and in the church every Sunday.”

“Send for him.  I want to see him.  Send now,” Grey said, adding, as he saw the expression of joy on his aunt’s face, and guessed what was in her mind.  “Don’t think I’m awful good, or going to join the church.  It is not that, but I want to see the minister before Aunt Hannah comes back.”

Fortunately Mr. Sanford was at that very moment below.  He had stopped on his way to the post-office to inquire for Grey, at whose side he soon stood, holding the pale hand in his, and looking inquiringly into the eager face of the boy who had asked to see him alone, and who said to him as he had to his Aunt Lucy;

“Don’t think I am good, or going to join the church, for I am not, I thank you for praying for me.  I guess it helped me pull through, and I am going to pray myself by and by, but I don’t want you to talk to me about that now.  I want to ask you something.  Grandpa never joined the church, and at the funeral you said he was good, that he was safe; did you mean it?”

Grey’s eyes were fixed earnestly upon the rector, who answered, unhesitatingly: 

“I wish I were as sure of heaven as he.  I know he is safe.”