p now, else the tale of her life will never be told, even though the
changes came day by day, falling drop by drop into the lap of the
waiting years."

Mother was feeling better, and when the rose-covered days of June came
over us our hearts were singing. Clara seemed well (for her) and I
forebore to grieve over her prophecy of leaving us, though for a few
days after she had said those words, an icy feeling crept over me as I
thought on what they foreboded. I could not see how we could bear to
lose her presence; life without her would be an empty vial, not only for
us, but for all. We loved her devotedly. In this beautiful June I felt
younger than ever before, and believed that the constant saying to
myself, "I will do right," was brightening all the world for me.

I was twenty-one years old the previous March, and it seemed to me I
looked much younger than when two years ago we saw for the first time
the face of our Clara Desmonde. March was a sort of wild month to find
one's birthday in, and I never think of it without recalling the saying
of one who had seen hard work and sorrow as well. It was a lady I met
once at Aunt Phebe's, who came to bring a book for her to read, and in
the course of conversation she said:

"Mrs. Hungerford, I was born in March, and have come to the delightful
conclusion that all who dare to be born in this month must fight the
beasts at Ephesus."

This year I had certainly fought Mr. Benton, and perhaps I should find
another experience in the next March month that came.

Ben was seventeen years old in January, and this was a great year for
him; he had sought and obtained father's consent to manage a farm for
himself. Hal could not, of course, till the land he owned, and Ben had
made arrangements to do it. He wanted the entire care, and Hal told him
to go right ahead the same as if he owned it all and see what he could
do. This was quite a step, and, as it proved, a successful one. He was
at home in his old room at night, but ate at Hal's table, and Mary said
he was so good they could never keep house without him. I rejoiced that
he could fill a position for which he was fitted, albeit father and Hal
were both disappointed that he could not have book knowledge enough to
place him in some position in public life.

"That was mere ambition," mother said, and Aunt Phebe remarked
concerning him, that he should be let alone, and to help him to be an
honest man was the wisest course possible.