'Why is it that I so often wish I was rid of that fellow, when he serves me so effectually?'
Mr. Burns turned before entering, and cast his eyes over the horizon. Daylight was just streaking the sky from the east. Joel Burns paused, and directed his glance over the town—the town he had founded and made to flourish. Tears stood in his eyes. Wherefore? He was thinking of the time when, after Mr. Bellows's death, he had, step by step, carefully travelled over this locality, while laying plans for his future career. Here—just here—he had marked four trees to indicate the site for his house, and here he had built it.
'Oh, Sarah, why had you to leave me?'
The words, uttered audibly, recalled him to himself. He opened and passed through the gate, and stepped on the piazza.
'Is that you, father?' It was his daughter's voice. He looked up and saw her at the window. 'I heard you go out, and I have been watching for you ever since. Did Mr. Meeker get off?'
'Yes.'
'Wait, father, and I will come down and take a walk with you. Wouldn't you like it?'
'Yes, dear, very much.'
They walked on together in silence. Presently Sarah perceived they were going in the direction of the burying ground. Mr. Burns entered it with his daughter, and soon stood by his wife's grave.
'She left us early, my child. You do not forget her?'