" "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. Ennison spoke at last. " "Dare not!" echoed the carpenter; "I don't understand you, Joan. " "I have often conjured up some frightful vision of the dead," murmured the knight, "but I never dreamed of an interview with the living. I presume that you have been living alone?” She sighed gently. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. Before his departure, he gave his assistant a glove. “I wonder which of us is right,” she said. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. "Perhaps he means well.
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