“Yes—­I’m going,” said John in an uncertain voice, while Ipsie stared up at him in sudden enquiring wonder, perhaps because he looked so pale, and because the hand in which he held the rose she had given him trembled slightly—­“I’ve a number of things to do, Josey—­otherwise I should love to stop and hear you talk—­you know I should!” and he smiled kindly—­“For you are quite right, Josey!  You have faith in the beautiful and the true, and so have I!  I believe—­ yes—­I believe that everything—­even a great sorrow—­is for the best.  We cannot see,—­we do not know—­but we should trust the Divine mind of God enough to feel that all is, all must be well!”

“That’s so, Passon!” said Josey, with grave heartiness—­“Stick to that, an’ we’re all right.  God bless ye!  I’ll see ye Sunday if I ain’t gone to glory!”

Walden pulled open the garden gate to shake hands with the old man, and to kiss Ipsie who, as he lifted her up in his arms, caressed his cheeks with her two dumpy hands.

“Has ’oo seen my lady-love?” she asked, in a crooning whisper—­“My bootiful white lady-love?”

Walden looked at Josey perplexedly.

“She means Miss Maryllia,”—­said the old man—­“That’s the name she’s given ‘er—­lady-love—­the thinkin’ little imp she is!  Where’s lady-love?  Why she’s in ‘er own house—­she don’t want any little tags o’ babbies runnin’ round ‘er—­your lady-love’s got somethin’ else to do.”

“She ain’t!” said Ipsie, with dramatic emphasis—­“She tums an’ sees me often—­’oo don’t know nuffin’ ’bout it!  Has ’oo seen ’er?” she asked Walden again, taking hold of one end of his moustache very tenderly.

He patted the little chubby arm.

“I saw her the other night,”—­he said, a sudden rush of words coming to his lips in answer to the child’s query—­“Yes, Ipsie,—­I saw her!  She was all in white, as a lady-love should be—­only there were little flushes of pink on her dress like the sunset on a cloud—­and she had diamonds in her hair,”—­Here Ipsie sighed a profound sigh of comfortable ecstasy—­“and she looked very sweet and beautiful—­and—­ and”—­Here he suddenly paused.  Josey Letherbarrow was looking at him with sudden interest.  “And that’s all, Ipsie!”

“Didn’t she say nuffin’ ’bout me?” asked the small autocrat.

Walden set her gently down on the ground.

“Not then, Ipsie,”—­he said—­“She was very busy.  But I am sure she thought of you!”

Ipsie looked quite contented.

“’Ess,—­my lady-love finks a lot, oh, a lot of me!” she said, seriously—­“Allus finkin’ of me!”

John smiled, and again shook old Josey’s hand.

“Good-bye till Sunday!” he said.

“Good-bye, Passon!” rejoined Josey, cheerily—­“Good luck t’ye!  God bless ye!”

And the old man watched John’s tall, slim athletic figure as long as his failing sight could follow it, murmuring to himself—­