"Molly, I dreamed of Kittie Fay last night," said old Patrick, as he drew his chair up to his wife. "It seemed as if she was weeping over a green grave, and as she stood by it she was dressed all in white, like an angel, and all about her was nothing but a barren waste. It made me sad like to see her there, wife, and I went over the dark space that lay between me and her to try to get her away, but no, she wouldn't stir a step, and kept stooping to water the grass and flowers, and then she pointed down to the grave, and then up to heaven, and then laid her white hand upon her heart. I woke up after that, Molly; but that dream won't leave me, I keep thinking on't, and I'm most of a mind that these young folks haven't been so long together for nothing. I believe, Molly, that there's a reason for our boy's fading away from us so all of a sudden, and for the pale face that Miss Kittie carries with her."

"No, no, Patrick, you mustn't be so full of your whims," replied the good wife, in a whisper, as she pointed to the half-open door, through which they could see the young maiden bending over the couch to minister to Archie. "You've forgot the station, man, you've forgot the station; it is kind and natural for her to interest her dear heart in the sick lad; but depend upon it there's nothing deeper—greater would be the sorrow if there was, Pat! Besides," she added, after a moment's silence, "there's her cousin Willie, they say, as much as engaged to her!"

"Fudge!" returned the old man, getting really excited; "a jackass of a fellow as ain't fit to hold a candle to our Archie? Never you fear, Molly, there'll nothing come of that; I'd sooner see her in her coffin first!"

"But you take it hard, man," answered his wife. "Don't you know that they've been children together, and it isn't as if she could see him with your eyes; besides, he's got a power o' money, Patrick, and that covers up many a blemish."

"I tell ye, Molly, a mint of gold wouldn't make any difference to the feelings o' that girl. Her heart's with the dying lad, and, mark my words, she'll never marry that simple cousin; but she'll cherish the green grave just as she did in the dream, and her thoughts'll be up in heaven with the absent spirit."

"It will be desput lonesome here when he's gone, Patrick," sighed the old woman; "but I s'pose it's our duty to take care of the grandmother as long as she lives!"

"To be sure, to be sure, Molly! We'll do well what we've undertaken, but I long to be back in the old shanty by the water, I kinder miss the old ways. Nothing but the lad would ever have brought me here, and he's fast going; it won't be many mornings that we can sit and look in even upon his sick-bed, Molly."

They couldn't talk about it any more, but they watched the old grandmother as she clutched at the shadows that the waving foliage made upon her white gown as she sat in the outer door, and they wondered why it could not be that she should go first, and the lad be spared them. It wasn't any good that she could do upon the earth, it wasn't any joy that she could ever again give! Truly, God's ways are not as our ways, nor His thoughts as our thoughts! Patrick and Molly could trust Him, even though the dark cloud was spreading itself over their way, and the sunshine was soon to be wholly removed from their dwelling.