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           Thentheylookedateachotherforamomentwithoutspeaking. Apersistent,coldrainwasfalling,mingledwithsnow. Behrman,inhisoldblueshirt,tookhisseatasthehermit-mineronanupturnedkettleforarock. 

           WhenSueawokefromanhour’ssleepthenextmorningshefoundJohnsywithdull,wide-openeyesstaringatthedrawngreenshade. 

           "Pullitup;Iwanttosee,"sheordered,inawhisper. 

           WearilySueobeyed. 

           But,lo! afterthebeatingrainandfiercegustsofwindthathadenduredthroughthelivelongnight,thereyetstoodoutagainstthebrickwalloneivyleaf. Itwasthelastonthevine. Stilldarkgreennearitsstem,butwithitsserratededgestintedwiththeyellowofdissolutionanddecay,ithungbravelyfromabranchsometwentyfeetabovetheground. 

           "Itisthelastone,"saidJohnsy. "Ithoughtitwouldsurelyfallduringthenight. Iheardthewind. Itwillfalltoday,andIshalldieatthesametime." 

           "Dear,dear! "saidSue,leaningherwornfacedowntothepillow, "thinkofme,ifyouwon’tthinkofyourself. WhatwouldIdo?" 

           ButJohnsydidnotanswer. Thelonesomestthinginalltheworldisasoulwhenitismakingreadytogoonitsmysterious,farjourney. Thefancyseemedtopossesshermorestronglyasonebyonethetiesthatboundhertofriendshipandtoearthwereloosed. 

           Thedayworeaway,andeventhroughthetwilighttheycouldseetheloneivyleafclingingtoitsstemagainstthewall.