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It was the last of October when this conversation took place, and the
next day but one the old man did not get up as usual, but staid in bed
all that day, and the next, and the next, until it came to be understood
between himself and Hannah that he would never get up again.
"Shall I send for Burton?" Hannah asked, and he replied:
"No, he does not care to come, and why trouble him sooner than
necessary? He is not like you. He is grand and high, and ashamed of his
old father, but he is my son, and I must see him once more. He will be
up on Thanksgiving Day, and I shall live till then. Don't send for him.
I cannot have him in this room--can't have anybody--don't let them in!
Can no one see under the bed?"
"No, father, no one can see: no one shall come in," Hannah answered.
Then for weeks she kept her lonely watch over the half-crazed old man,
who started at every sound and whispered piteously:
"Don't let them come here, Hannah. I am too old; and there is Grey--the
boy--for his sake, Hannah, we will not let them come for me now!"
"No, father, they shall not come.


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