Aunt Hildy never said Mrs.
---- married or single, it was always Miss.) "She'll tell you all about
it, I guess, for she wants to see you. She remembers your dark eyes, and
Matthias she calls Peter--yes, she does, now she's come clean to her
senses, and when she gets a little more strength, she says she must see
him, and the dark eyes too; so you'll have to go over. Mis' Goodwin said
mebbe you'd better wait till to-morrer, and so says Brother Davis. He
come over and brought a few of his powders--he wanted to do something. I
told him we could fetch her out straight--Mis' Goodwin and me--and I
think he'd better tend to himself--says he's got a dreadful pain under
his shoulder blades; acts as if he's goin' to be sick."

"Could the young lady eat anything, Mrs. Patten?" said Louis.

"Mercy! yes, I've made gruel twice for her and she's all right, only
she'll be lame and sore-like for a good while, but I must go to work,
I've been gone long enough. Where's your mother?" And the dear old soul
hastened to her duties.

Our supper table was enlivened by the news that Aunt Hildy brought, all
being interested with the exception of Mr. Benton, who was well covered
with dignity. Part of that evening, Louis and I spent with Hal and Mary.
I longed to tell them all about the letter and Mr. Benton's deceit, but
as we entered, Louis whispered, "Let us be discreet," and I answered,
"Emily will do it." He was so much wiser that our years told a story
when they said "only a month's difference in their ages." Hal and Mary
were much interested in the poor lamb, and like ourselves hoped to learn
her history, and help her as she must need. Our visits here were always
pleasant, and when we said "good night," a sincere "God bless you" rose
from our hearts. We entered our sitting-room, to find Clara sitting
between mother and father, and the three evidently enjoying a home talk.
After we were seated, and a lull in the conversation came, Louis
startled me by saying:

"Mr. and Mrs. Minot, I want to ask of you a favor--greater than the one
granted my little mother; perhaps so great that you will fail to grant
it; but it is worth the asking, worth the waiting for through years. May
I call Emily my wife?"

My father looked strangely, and did not reply for a moment, while
mother's face was covered with that pleasant smile, which from earliest
years I had considered, "_yes_." Louis' eyes were bent on my father,
who, when he answered, said:

"You are