"We've had a very enjoyable day, Amelia," said the old lady, untying her bonnet-strings. "Suppose you lay this on the table. Ann must brush it before it's put away. What is it? Child, child, what is it?"
Amelia had taken a fold of her old friend's skirt. It would have seemed to her a liberty to touch her hand.
"Mis' Knowles," she said, "I've had company. 'Twas somebody to see me, an' I got dinner here, an' supper, too, an' I used your best tablecloth, an' I'm goin' to do it up so 't Ann won't know. An' I acted for all the world as if 'twas my own house."
Old lady Knowles laughed a little. She had never been a woman to whom small things seemed large, and now very few things were of any size at all.
"Who was it, Amelia?" she asked. "Who was your company?"
There was a moment's silence, and Amelia heard her own heart beat. But she answered quietly,—
"'Twas Jared Beale."
There was silence again while old lady Knowles thought back over the years. When she spoke, her voice was very soft and kindly.
"You are a good girl, Amelia. You've always been a good girl. Run home, child, now, and come to-morrow. Good-night."
Amelia, out in the path a moment afterwards, the tablecloth under her arm, could hardly believe in what had surely happened to her. Old lady Knowles had bent forward to her; her soft lips had touched Amelia's cheek.