“I know it is uncanny. You may not want to do it. I must not ask it, and yet I must.”
“My dear Miss Barton, tell me what it is.”
“You know, I have no one to leave my little property to,—well, I have from time to time been spending some money out in the cemetery.” Then she hesitated for fully two minutes, sobbing but trying to control her emotions, when she continued—“where I’ll remain for all eternity. Maybe you would like to see the little monument I have had constructed; to keep it in memory, and to associate me with the place I am to be always. I would so much like to have you see it, and it might be some satisfaction to you. Will you do me this favor? You can get off the electric car on your way to Worcester; it won’t take you long, and I would feel better to have you do so.”
“My dear,” I said, “it is so kind of you to have mentioned this. I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I won’t get off the car, but if Doctor Hubbell will go with me, I’ll get an auto to drive out there. I also want to see where you were born. How far is that?”
“Only two or three miles. If you will do this you will make me very happy.”
I am taught by the Oak to be rugged and strong
In defense of the right, in defiance of wrong.
Helen O. Hoyt.
HISTORIC AND SENTIMENTAL
