“It’s all the fault of your Great-aunt Alison.  Tell me, Jean, girl—­no, I’m not laughing—­how will this day look from your death-bed?”

Jean looked at the river, then she looked into her husband’s eyes, and put both her hands into his.

“Ah, my dear love,” she said softly, “if that day leaves me any remembrance of what I feel to-day, I’ll be so glad to have lived that I’ll go out of the world cheering.”

THE END