“There are so many things,” he faltered. “But your aunt must see you. She is not as strong as I am. I—I am afraid she is failing a little.”
“You will rest now?”
“Yes, I can rest now. Boy, you have brought me home.”
Barnes pressed the feeble hand and rose.
“Shall I send John to you?” asked the daughter. “Do you need anything?”
“Nothing more,” he answered, as he sank back wearily among the pillows. He looked like a man who had come to the end of a long journey.
Barnes started out.
“You’ll be downstairs? You’ll be where I can call you?”
“Yes,” answered Barnes.
The girl stopped and kissed her father’s thin lips. He reached up his hand and smoothed her hair a moment. Then his arm fell and he seemed to sleep, dropping off quickly as a child does.