She reached home apparently without undue fatigue.
“She will be more tired to-morrowl” we said; but she was not. Her son came for the week-end, and his presence was always a cordial.
Sunday was a happy day. In the evening we gathered round the piano, she playing, son and daughters singing the old German student songs brought by “Uncle Sam” from Heidelberg
seventy years before.
On the Tuesday she went to the Papeterie, and was the life and soul of the party, sparkling with merriment.
Driving home, it was so warm that she begged to have the top of the carriage put back, and so she enjoyed the crowning pageant of the autumn, the full hunter's moon and the crimson ball of the sun both visible at once.
Wednesday found her busy at her desk, confessing to a slight cold, but making nothing of it. The next day bronchitis developed, followed by pneumonia.
For several days the issue seemed doubtful, the strong constitution fighting for life.
Two devoted physicians were beside her, one the friend of many years, the other a young assistant.
The presence of the latter puzzled her, but his youth and strength seemed tonic to her, and she would rest quietly with her hand in his strong hand.
On Sunday evening the younger physician thought her convalescent; the elder said, “If she pulls through the next twenty-four hours, she will recover.”
But she was too weary.
That night they heard her say, “God will help mel” and again, toward morning, “I am so tired!”