“Dearest Aunt Sibby, though I seem to be leaving you finally, yet it is not so. You will see me much oftener, and for much longer periods, than you used to do when I was mate on a merchantman and away to sea three years at a time. Besides, you will come and stay with us on the other side as often and as long as you please—forever, if you will. We should like it.”
“Yes, honey! Never mind me! I’m not crying! What should I cry for, when you are so happy? I love you too true for that! Rale love, sez I, always rejoices in the good of its objects, sez I! And them as snivels at the happiness of their children, sez I, hasn’t much love, but a deal of self in their souls, sez I!” Miss Sibby concluded, with a glance of reproach on poor Mrs. Hedge and Miss Grandiere.
At last they were gone.
And the invited guests soon followed.
Oldfield was left to itself, except for the presence of the Forces, who, being very tired, had accepted Mrs. Grandiere’s pressing invitation to remain and rest for the whole day. They all retired to their rooms to lie down and sleep—all except the California widow, who, with her instincts of order, volunteered to help to put the farmhouse “to rights” after the party. She called to her aid Luce, who had come to Oldfield in attendance on her mistress.
Luce’s eyes were red, and her nose was swollen through much crying.
“Now, come out of that, you fool!” exclaimed the widow, who had finished with her own crying.
“I can’t help ob it!” sobbed Luce. “Dese yere boys an’ gals is ’nough to break a body’s heart! Allers, eberlastin’ gettin’ married world without end! But wot’s de use ob talkin’? It’s a habit dey gibs deirse’ves! Nuffin’ ’tall but a habit dey gibs deirse’ves! An’ dey’ll nebber be broke ob it—nebber!”
“Oh, hush, Luce! Look up! Look up, woman! There is a good omen! The sun is rising!”
THE END