“Yes, they could, dear,” affirmed Aunt Deborah, “only the need hasn’t come. When it does, you’ll all be ready. Of course, the Pioneer Days are over, but there is always need of pioneers—for Vigilantes, like yourselves.”
A half hour later and Aunt Deborah was again in the wagon beside Alec—again very straight and very stiff. She had had a beautiful day, she said, 125 smiling upon them all. She had gathered thoughts and memories enough for another year.
William came up to the carriage just as Alec lifted the reins. His hands were filled with marigolds—brown and orange and yellow.
“I thought you might like ’em, ma’am,” he said shyly.
A light came into Aunt Deborah’s gray eyes.
“Like them, William!” she cried. “Like them! They’ll give me even more memories—the very sweetest of my life.”