The gates ajar. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.

The Gates Ajar. 211
then, and, unless I am much mistaken, her face
showed paler than usual; but when I asked
her if she felt faint, she said, "0 no, I believe I am a little tired, and will go to
bed."
September x.
I am glad that the summer is over. This
heat has certainly worn on Aunt Winifred,
with that kind of wear which slides people into
confirmed invalidism. I suppose she would
bear it in her saintly way, as she bears everything, but it would be a bitter cup for her. I
know she was always pale, but this is a paleness which
Night.
A dreadful thing has happened!
I was in the middle of my sentence, when I
heard a commotion in the street, and a child's
voice shouting incoherently something about
the doctor, and "mother's killed! 0, mother's
killed! mother's burnt to death!" I was at
the window in time to see a blond-haired girl
running wildly past the house, and to see that
it was Molly Bland.
At the same moment I saw Aunt Winifred
snatching her hat from its nail in the entry.
She beckoned to me to follow, and we were