“Well, you know, my boy is buried here—and—and——”
“That need not hinder your going. You can have the privilege of coming here as often as you choose.”
“There’s another reason,” said Mrs. Morris, twisting her apron strings around.
“What is it?”
“I don’t jest like to speak of it.”
“Is it anything you are ashamed of?”
“No, but then you know everybody hates to talk about bein’ in love.”
“Oh, that is it. Has the deacon been here again?”
“Oh, la, me, yes; now don’t you go to talkin’ about him. You can’t appreciate bein’ in my place ’cause you never was in love.”
“Has he proposed?” Miss Elsworth asked, trying to hide a smile.