"What a big sigh, Auntie!" Esther, who was sitting at the table peeling apples, looked up questioningly. "A penny for your thoughts."
A look of cunning came over Aunt Amy's face. And instead of speaking her real thoughts she said, "I was thinking of weddings, Esther."
"But why the sigh?"
"I don't like weddings. Once there was a young girl going to be married. She was very happy. She was so happy that she was afraid to look at her own face in the glass. And it was eleven o'clock on Tuesday. I mean she was waiting for eleven o'clock on Tuesday. She was to be married then. But just one minute before the time, something happened—the clock stopped, I think. Anyway eleven o'clock on Tuesday never came. So she could not get married. And she grew old and her flowers fell to pieces. It was very sad."
"Poor Auntie!"
Aunt Amy moved uneasily. "Do you know who the girl was, Esther?"
"Don't you know, Auntie?"
"No, that is, I am never sure. Sometimes I think I used to know her. But she's gone. I never see her now. I'd like to find her if I could."
"You will find her some day, Auntie. Try not to fret about it."
It was seldom indeed that Aunt Amy spoke even thus vaguely of that other self of hers which she had lost in the tragedy of her youth. Esther's heart was full of pity as she listened. What was her own trouble compared to this? She at least would have her memories.