"Yes. Is Ada there?"
"Of course I am there!" The small, stricken figure crouching on the other side of the bed put out a skinny paw and took the old man's hand. She held it steadfastly for the rest of the time he lived.
"Would you like to see the Rector?" I asked.
"No, no. I am at peace with God. It is of my little granddaughter that I would speak." His voice was stronger now. "My annuity dies with me. I have some small savings, which she will receive. But they will not keep her. I shall be grateful if you will exert your influence, sir, in enabling her to go into service."
"There is a vacancy in my house, if Ada will come," I said.
"Thank you. Will you go to the Doctor, Ada?"
Ada, with tears running freely at last, nodded in answer; and the dying man proceeded to the business which was ever uppermost in his thoughts.
"Then, sir, my Library."
"Yes. What are you going to do with it? Leave it to the town?"
"No, no, no, no!" He was strangely emphatic.