"Ramy? When was he discharged?"

"I don't har'ly know. He was very sick, and when he
got well his place had been filled. He married my sister last
October and they went to St. Louis, I ain't had any news of them
for over two months, and she's my only sister, and I'm most crazy
worrying about her."

"I see." Mr. Loomis reflected. "In what capacity was Ramy
employed here?" he asked after a moment.

"He--he told us that he was one of the heads of the clock-
department," Ann Eliza stammered, overswept by a sudden doubt.

"That was probably a slight exaggeration. But I can tell you
about him by referring to our books. The name again?"

"Ramy--Herman Ramy."

There ensued a long silence, broken only by the flutter of
leaves as Mr. Loomis turned over his ledgers. Presently he looked
up, keeping his finger between the pages.

"Here it is--Herman Ramy. He was one of our ordinary workmen,
and left us three years and a half ago last June."

"On account of sickness?" Ann Eliza faltered.

Mr. Loomis appeared to hesitate; then he said: "I see no
mention of sickness." Ann Eliza felt his compassionate eyes on her