Elsie’s head was laid on her husband’s shoulder, the bright drops were coming fast down her cheeks.

“I have sent word to Mr. Wood,” he went on, “the poor old fellow is anxious to see him; and you also.”

“Yes, yes, I will go down directly after prayers,” she said.

Then he told her of the coffin laid at the door of Fairview, and the threatening words on its lid.

She heard it with a shudder and a sigh.  “Oh poor Mr. Leland!  Edward, don’t you think it would be wise in him to leave for the present?”

“Perhaps so.  I fear they will really attempt his life if he stays; but all his means being invested in Fairview makes it very hard.  Where are our children?”

“They went to deck the corpse of Baby Ben with flowers.  Ah, here they come, the darlings!” as little feet came pattering through the hall.

They hastened to their father for their usual morning kiss, and hung about him with tender loving caresses; but their manner was subdued, and Vi and Harold told with a sort of wondering awe of the poor little dead baby so still and cold.

“Are you going out, mamma?” asked little Elsie an hour later, as Mrs. Travilla appeared, dressed in walking costume, in the midst of the group of children and nurses gathered under a tree on the shady side of the house.

“Yes, daughter, I am going down to the quarter to see poor old Uncle Mose who is very ill; and I want you to be mother to the little ones while I am away.”

“O mamma, mayn’t we go with you?” cried Eddie and Vi in a breath, Harold chiming in, “And me too, mamma, me too!”

“No, dears, not to-day, but some other time you shall,” the mother answered, giving each a good-bye kiss.

“Mamma, stay wis us; I’se ’f’aid de Kluxes get ’oo!” said Harold coaxingly, clinging about her neck with his chubby arms, while the big tears gathered in his great dark eyes.

“No, dear, they don’t come in the day-time.  And God will take care of me.  Papa is down at the quarter, too; and Uncle Joe and mammy will go with me;” and with another tender caress, she gently released herself from his hold and turned away.

The children gazed wistfully after her graceful figure as it disappeared among the trees, Uncle Joe holding a great umbrella over her to shield her from the sun, while mammy and Aunt Sally followed, each with a basket on her arm.

Uncle Mose was rapidly nearing that bourne whence no traveler returns.  As his mistress laid her soft white hand on his, she felt that the chill of death was there.

“You are almost home, Uncle Mose,” she said, bending over him, her sweet face full of tender sympathy.

“Yes, my dear young Missus, I’se in de valley,” he answered, speaking slowly and with difficulty, “but bress de Lord, it’s not dark!”

“Jesus is with you?”

“Yes, Missus, he is my strength and my song:  de riber’s deep, but he’ll neber let me sink.  De pain in dis ole body’s dreffle, but I’ll neber hab no mo’, bress de Lord!”