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Had Mildred gone on in this eternal course of progress of which Uncle Zed had been speaking? Was she still away ahead of him? Would he ever reach her? On his study table were a number of books, birthday presents. One was from Uncle Zed's precious store, and one What? He picked it up "David Copperfield."
They could plainly see that one more year would be needed, besides Dorian was not in a condition to concentrate his mind on study. So, when the long evenings came on again, he found solace in his books, and read again many of dear Uncle Zed's writings which had been addressed so purposely to him.
Goodnight Sister Duke, goodnight Carlia." Carlia stood in the doorway leading to the stairs. "Goodnight, Dorian," she said. "Forgive me for being so rude." He stepped toward her, but she motioned him back, and than ran up the carpetless stairs to her room. Dorian went out in the night. With a heavy heart he hurried down the road in the direction of Uncle Zed's home.
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.
Clear thinking was not easy for her just then, but in time she managed to say: "Dorian, sit down.... Do you remember that evening, not so long ago, when you let me 'browse', as you called it, among Uncle Zed's books and manuscripts?" "Yes; you have done that a number of times." "But there is one time which I shall remember.
"Uncle Zed. O, shucks!" "Well, of course, you do not have to go," said Dorian. "I think you're mean. I do want to go if Mildred is going." "I don't know Uncle Zed," said Mildred, "but if Mrs. Trent and Dorian wish me to go, I shall be pleased; and of course, you will go with us." "She's invited," repeated Dorian. "It's Uncle Zed's seventy-fifth birthday.
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