"'James,' says she, 'is that you?' I only squeaked the ball, which I had under the bedclothes. 'James, are you ill?' 'It's my chest,' I squeaked faintly, and squeezed the ball again. 'I think I'm going to die,' said I, and I squeaked it every time I breathed." And Mr. Bowdoin gave audible demonstration of the squeak of his rubber toy. "Well, she was very remorseful, and she got up to send for the doctor; and faith, I had to get up and go downstairs after her and speak in my natural voice before she'd believe I wasn't in the last gasp of a croup. But she won't speak herself this morning," added the old gentleman rather ruefully. "What's the matter here?"
"Jamie has been down, and he says his son-in-law has decided to leave the bank."
"Dear me! dear me!" The old gentleman's face grew grave again. "Nothing wrong in his accounts, I hope?"
"He says that he has decided to go to New York to live."
"Go to New York! What'll become of the new house?"
"He has friends there. They are to sell the house."
