y in the track of Enoch's talk with
cousin Josiah, though her mind kept its undercurrent of foolish musing.
Like all of us, snatched up by the wheels of great emergencies, she
caught at trifles while they whirled her round. Here were
"soldier-buttons." All the other girls had collected them, though she,
having no lover in the war, had traded for her few. Here were the
gold-stones that held her changeable silk, there the little clouded
pearls from her sister's raglan. Annie had died in youth; its glamour
still enwrapped her. Poor Annie! But Rosie had seemed to bring her back.
Amelia swept litter, buttons and all, into the dustpan, and marched to
the stove to throw her booty in. Nobody marked her save Rosie, whose
playthings were endangered; but Enoch's very obtuseness to the situation
was what stayed her hand. She carried the dustpan away into a closet,
and came back, to gather up her tins. A cold rage of nervousness beset
her, so overpowering that she herself was amazed at it.

Meantime, Josiah Pease had divested himself of his coat, and drawn the
grandfather chair into a space behind the stove.

"You a clock-mender by trade?" he asked of Enoch.

"No," said Enoch absently, "I ain't got any reg'lar trade."

"Jest goin' round the country?" amended cousin Josiah, with the
preliminary insinuation Amelia knew so well. He was, it had been said,
in the habit of inventing lies, and challenging other folks to stick to
'em. But Enoch made no reply. He went soberly on with his work.

"Law, 'Melia, to think o' your bein' married," continued Josiah, turning
to her. "I never should ha' thought that o' you."

"I never thought it of myself," said Amelia tartly. "You don't know what
you'll do till you're tried."

"No! no!" said Josiah Pease. "Never in the world. You remember Sally
Flint, how plain-spoken she is? Well, Betsy Marden's darter Ann rode
down to the poor-house t' other day with some sweet trade, an' took a
young sprig with her. He turned his back a minute, to look out o'
winder, an' Sally spoke right up, as ye might say, afore him. 'That
your beau?' says she. Well, o' course Ann couldn't own it, an' him right
there, so to speak. So she shook her head. 'Well, I'm glad on 't,' says
Sally. 'If I couldn't have anything to eat, I'd have suthin' to look
at!' He was the most unsignifyin'est creatur' you ever put your eyes on.
But they say Ann's started in on her clo'es."

Amelia's face had grown scarlet. "I dunno's any such