Mrs. Quinsby put her arm around his shoulder. “Oh, he’s let go—you’ve let go, Father, and I’m left! I can’t stand the lonesomeness, I can’t, I can’t!”
They moved toward the arbor. As they passed under the drooping honeysuckle, Hiram laughed aloud.
“They are putting their hands over our eyes to make us guess which is which—the little geese!” Mrs. Quinsby put her hand to her forehead and pressed the cool honeysuckle leaves against her eyes.
She laughed too. “I knew it,” she whispered, “I knew the Almighty would let me go with him. He knew how it was with Hiram and me.” Aloud she said, “I guess Winnie. Yore hands ain’t as soft as Winnie’s, Nan.”
AN IMPASSABLE GULF
By Katharine Bates
PETER ELSTON’S two nieces, Nancy Rollins and Hester Elston, stood on opposite sides of the frame, working together silently. Suddenly Hester dropped her needle, straightened her lithe young figure, and throwing back her pretty head, said hurriedly:
“I don’t see how you can feel so, Nan! You must see how good he is, as well as bein’ different from any boy we’ve ever known round here on the Prairie. Ain’t he always thoughtful ‘bout pleasin’ Uncle Peter? And he’s gone to church reg’lar with us every Sunday he’s been here, ain’t he?”