“Why, Alfy child,” remonstrated Aunt Betty. “What are you talking about? There now, calm yourself and tell me.”
“It’s this,” replied Alfy, holding up a piece of linen about a foot square, “this sampler. I found it in an old box in the closet of the spare room Ma had fixed up in the barn, when I was searching for my raincoat just before I left home. Ma said a school friend, a little Baltimore girl who was ‘up Mounting’ summering, and who fell ill and stayed all winter and went to school with Ma, made it for her.” And Alfy handed the square of linen to Mrs. Calvert. Aunt Betty took it up and carefully examined it while Dorothy looked over her shoulder and tried to see it too.
“Why,” exclaimed Mrs. Calvert, “this is beautiful work! Just beautiful! And what is the name? Dorothy dear, will you see if you can find my glasses? I put them in my work bag, which I put in the tray of the trunk. Yes, way down in the right hand corner.”
Dorothy crossed over to the trunk and immediately found the desired bag, and opening it took out the glasses. “Here they are, Aunt Betty,” she said, handing them to her.
Aunt Betty put the glasses on and proceeded carefully to examine the sampler.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I have it now! The name is in this corner, and as far as I can make it out is ‘Hannah.’ ‘Hannah’ something. ‘Morrow.’ Maybe that’s it.”
“Let me see,” interrupted Dorothy, “maybe I can make it out. I think the first letter is ‘W,’ not ‘M,’” and turning to Alfy, “what did Ma Babcock say about the name?”
“Ma said that it was Hannah somebody, and that she was a poor sickly girl. She lived in Baltimore and married a man who did not treat her well, and died shortly after. I forget what she said her last name was. But she said she married a man whose name was ‘Halley’ or ‘Haley,’” answered Alfy.
“Oh, Aunt Betty, I have it!” exclaimed Dorothy joyously. “I have it! It’s ‘Woodrow,’ ‘W-o-o-d-r-o-w, Woodrow.’”
“Yes, that’s it. I recollect, now, ma saying, ‘Hannah Woodrow,’” chimed in Alfy.