directions, had been removed, that the remedies might be more conveniently applied, and the heated blankets the sooner infuse a vital glow through the storm-beaten frame.  The ancient crone took them up with the tips of her fingers—­ragged coat, vest, and pantaloons—­rummaged in the same contemptuous fashion every pocket, and kicked over the worn, soaked boots with the toe of her leather brogan, sniffing her disappointment at the worthlessness of the habiliments and the result of her search.

“Fit fur nothin’ but to bury his poor carcuss in!” she grunted, and had recourse to her own plethoric pocket for a clay pipe and a bag of tobacco.

This lighted by a coal from the hearth, she tied a second handkerchief over that she wore, turban-wise, on her head, mumbling something about “cold ears” and “rheumatiz;” settled herself in a rush-bottomed chair, put her feet upon the rounds of another, and was regularly on duty, prepared for any emergency, and to be alarmed at nothing that might occur.

So strict was the discipline she established over herself in fifteen minutes, that she did not stir at the creaking of the bolt, or the shriller warning of the unoiled hinges, as the door moved cautiously back, and a cloaked form became dimly visible in the opening.  A survey of the inside of the chamber, the unmoving nurse and her senseless charge, with the fumes of brandy and tobacco, reassured the visitant.  Her stockingless feet were thrust into wadded slippers; over her white night-dress was a dark-blue wrapper, and, in addition to this protection against the cold, she was enveloped in a great shawl, disposed like a cowl about her head.  Without rustle or incautious mis-step she gained the side of the improvised bed, and leaned over it.  The face of the occupant was turned slightly toward the left shoulder, and away from the light.  The apparition raised herself, with a gesture of impatience, caught the candle from the rickety table at the head of the mattress, snuffed it hurriedly, and again stooped toward the recumbent figure, with it in her hand.

It was then that the vigilant watcher unclosed her flabby lids, slowly, and without start or exclamation, much as a dozing cat blinks when a redder sparkle from the fire dazzles her out of dreams.  One hard wink, one bewildered stare, and Pbillis was awake and wary.  Her chin sank yet lower upon her chest, but the black eyes were rolled upward until they bore directly upon the strange tableau.  The shawl had dropped from the lady’s head, and the candle shone broadly upon her features, as upon the sick man’s profile.  Apparently dissatisfied with this view, she slipped her disengaged hand under the cheek which was downward, and drew his face around into full sight.

“And bless your soul, honey!” Aunt Phillis told her young mistress, long afterward, “you never see sech a look as was on hern—­while her eyes was thar bright and big, they was jist like live coals sot in a lump of dough—­she growed so white!”