CHAPTER ELEVEN.
Uncle Zed's illness did not prove fatal, though it was serious enough.
In a few days he was up and about again, slowly, quietly providing for his simple needs.

However, it was plainly evident that he had nearly come to the end of his earthly pilgrimage.
After the most pressing fall work had been disposed of, Dorian spent as much of his spare time as possible with the old man, who seemed to like the company of the younger man better than anyone else in the village; and Dorian, for his part, took delight in visiting with him, in helping him with the heaviest of his not heavy chores.

Especially, was it pleasant during the lengthening evening with a small fire and the lamp newly trimmed.

Uncle Zed reclined in his easy chair, while Dorian sat by the table with books and papers.

Their conversations ranged from flower gardens to dry-farms, and from agnosticism to the highest degrees of the celestial glory.