" "Not in the least, Sir," replied Tom, in a drowsy tone, and with a look seeming to imply that he was too much accustomed to odd noises at night to heed them. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. Hers were less noble, yet stately. Yet even now there were so many things untouched, so much to be learned. “What do you think of that?” he asked. His tone was kind and sympathetic. There is no Heaven for your mother. The flowers upon the mantel-shelf were withered and drooping—she had gathered them.
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