“And you, too, will be happy with us, father,” replied Fanny, taking his hands in hers.
The old man smiled faintly, and rolled his head to and fro on his pillow, as if he thought differently.
The clock began to strike; it was midnight, and the New Year was at hand. The sound of bells came to their ears, and a distant chime was heard.
Rumble’s mind once more began to wander; again he talked about the auction; again he muttered the words that had troubled him so much:
“Going—going—gone!”
They were his last words. The old man’s life went out with the old year.
Albert Roland Haven.