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“Shouldn’t think you, nor no other sensible person’d want to go ‘neighborin’’ me, a body that can’t keep her wits about her no longer ’n what I can. Gabriella Trent, I’ve clean gone, or gone an’ clean forgot, that pink-and-white patchwork quilt I’ve been settin’ up nights to get ready for Jessie to take with her on the cars, to sleep in! Now—what do you say to that!”

The dramatic dismay on the good woman’s countenance sent Mr. Sharp into a roar of laughter which, this time, was wholly unfeigned, and even brought a smile of amusement to Mrs. Trent’s pale face. The picture her fancy evoked of pretty, fair-haired Jessica, bundled in the patchwork quilt on board a luxurious “sleeper” was so absurd that she forgot, for the moment, other and graver matters.

“No wonder, dear, with all the things you did and looked after, so that we might both leave home—no wonder you forgot. It was very kind of you to take so much trouble for the child, but she’ll not really need the quilt. The beds are well fitted on the sleepers, and Mr. Hale will care for her as if she were his own. Come. We mustn’t keep Mr. Ninian waiting and after dinner he wants me to meet one or two business men. About the mine, you know;” explained Gabriella, entering the carriage, whither Aunt Sally clumsily followed.