kon, and lookin' forward to marryin' some day; for she was young
and so was he, and when folks are young they always feel certain of
havin' their own way with life, and it's easy for 'em to wait and hope
for the things that's out o' reach. But nothin' seemed to go right
with the doctor. If he saved up a little money and put it in the bank,
or bought a piece o' property, bad luck was sure to come along and
pull down everything he'd built up. His father's health broke down,
and of course he had to ease the old man's way to the grave; his
youngest brother had to be educated, and first one thing and then
another kept comin' up and puttin' Miss Dorothy further off.

"But the older they got, the more they loved each other; and Miss
Dorothy, she'd come and go every summer, till finally one summer she
didn't come; and the next summer the doctor went to Virginia to see
her, and come back lookin' like an old, old man; and not long
afterwards he come into church one Sunday with a band o' black crape
around his hat, and then we knew Miss Dorothy was dead."

"But wasn't Miss Dorothy willing to marry the doctor in spite of his
poverty?" I asked.

"I reckon she must 'a' been," responded Aunt Jane. "When a woman waits
all her life for a man, like Miss Dorothy did for the doctor, it
stands to reason she's willin' to marry him any time."

"Oh! Then why in the world didn't she tell him so?" I exclaimed.

The bodies of my lovers were dust and their souls with the saints
these many years, but Aunt Jane had called from the dead "each
frustrate ghost"; the pathos of her tale thrilled me sharply and I
could not stay my cry of regret over "The counter these lovers
staked"--and lost.

Aunt Jane turned toward me and looked over her glasses with frank
astonishment in her clear old eyes. More than once had I shocked her
with sentiments discordant with her own ideals of life and conduct,
but never so severely as now. She delayed her reply as if to give me a
gracious opportunity to recall my unseemly words. Then--

"Child," she said, in a low voice, "you know such a thing wouldn't be
fittin' for a young gyirl to do. Why that'd be pretty near as bad as
Miss Dorothy askin' the doctor to marry her. No matter how much a
woman loves a man, she's got to sit still and wait till he asks her to
marry him, and if he never asks her, why, all she can do is to marry
somebody else or stay an old maid. With the raisin' you've had, I
oughtn't to have to tell