"I'm bad company," said the old man, "somehow I can't feel like talking to-night."
"Nor I," said Mary Fuller, leaning her cheek against the arm-chair, "something is the matter with us both. I wonder what it is!"
"My heart is full," said uncle Nathan, mournfully.
Mary crept close to him.
"Tell me, uncle Nat, is it about Mr. Ritner's note that you feel so bad?"
"That may have set me to thinking of—of other things. I seem to remember everything that ever happened to-night, I never saw clouds exactly like them before, or heard the wind howl so, but once."
"When was that, uncle Nathan?" inquired his companion, in a whisper.
"The night our sister Anna died," answered the old man in the same hushed tone.
"Uncle Nathan, do tell me about her, I want to hear it so much, it seems as if I must ask you now, though I never dared before."
Uncle Nathan remained silent a minute or two, then turning in his chair, he said, in a low, husky voice,