'housewife,' we used to call
it,) full of all possible and impossible contrivances and conveniences,
without recalling my Aunt Hovey's patient smile when she gave it to me.
She was rheumatic, and confined for twenty years to her chair; and these
'housewives' she made exquisitely, and each of her young friends on her
wedding-day might count on one. Then Sebiah Collins,--she brought me a
bag of holders,--poor old soul! And Aunt Patty Hobbs gave me a bundle of
rags! She said, 'Young housekeepers was allers a-wantin' rags, and, in
course, there wa'n't nothin' but what was bran'-new out of the store.'
Can I ever forget the Hill children, with their mysterious movements,
their hidings, and their unaccountable absences? and then the
work-basket on my toilet-table, on my wedding-morning! the little
pin-cushions and emery-sacks, the fantastic thimble-cases, and the
fish-shaped needle-books! all as nice as their handy little fingers
could make, and every stitch telling of their earnest love and bright
faces!--Every one of those children is dead. But I keep the work-basket
sacred. I don't know whether it is more pleasure or pain."

She looked up again, as if before her passed a long procession. I had
often seen that expression in the eyes of old, and even of middle-aged
persons, who had had much mental vicissitude, but I had not interpreted
it till now. It was only for a moment; and she added, cheerfully,--

"The future is always pleasant; so we will look that way."

Just then a gentleman wished to see Mr. Sampson on business, and they
two went into the library.

Mrs. Harris talked on, and I led the way to the parlor. She said she
should be called for presently; and then Laura lighted the argand, and
dropped the muslin curtains.

"Oh, isn't this sweet?" exclaimed Mrs. Harris, rapturously, approaching
the table. "How the best work of Art pales before Nature!"

It was only a tall small vase of ground glass, holding a pond-lily,
fully opened. But it was perfect in its way, and I knew by the smile on
Laura's lips that it was her gift.

"Mine is in that corner, Delphine," said Mrs. Harris. "I wouldn't have
it brought here till to-night, when I could see Laura, for fear you
should have a duplicate. So here is my Mercury, that I have looked at
till I love it. I wouldn't give you one that had only the odor of the
shop about it; but you will never look at this, Del, without thoughts of
our little cozy room and your old friend."

"