"But, John, you can't live with jest books."
"That's all I have left, Drusilla. All my friends are gone."
"That's what I wanted to hear. You ain't got no one that draws your heart back to that place in Ohio, have you?"
"No one in the world, Drusilla."
Drusilla settled back into her chair and gave a sigh of contentment.
"Then what I've been dreamin' of ever sence I saw your name in the paper can come true."
"What have you been a-dreaming of, Drusilla?"
Drusilla was silent for a few moments, looking thoughtfully into the fire. Then she said softly:
"Ever sence I knew you was alive, and after I sent that young man out to you and he told me about you, I jest been dreamin' of seein' you settin' there, smokin' your pipe, and me a-settin' here, talkin' to you, and I have come into this room more the last two weeks, lookin' at it, thinkin' how it would look with your things layin' around. You are alone, John, and I'm alone. As I wrote you, we are both two old ships that have sailed the seas alone for all these years, and now we're nearin' port. Why can't we make the rest of the voyage together? I have a home too big for one lone woman; you have no home at all. Years ago your home would 'a' been mine, if you could 'a' give it to me; and now I want to share mine with you. No—don't start," as she saw John make a movement, "I ain't proposin' to you, John. We're too old to think of such things, but I want to die with my hand in some one's who cares for me and who I care for. You're the only one in all the world that's left from out my past, and I want you near me."
"But, Drusilla—"