ition of that existence by man or
Providence.

"Walk in an' sit down, ma'am," he said hospitably leading the way into
the little sitting-room, where the old hound dozed on the rug. "Molly's
jest gone down to the spring-house, but she'll be back in a minute."

"Reuben Merryweather--" began Sarah, and then she stopped, "you ain't
lookin' over sprightly," she said after a pause.

"I've got a weak chest, an' the cold settles on it."

"Did you ever try mutton suet laid over it on a piece of red flannel?
'Tis the best cure I know of."

"Molly makes me a plaster for it at night." The feeling that he had
engrossed the conversation for his selfish ends led him to remark after
a minute, "You have changed but little, Sarah, a brave woman you are."

"Not so brave, Reuben, but I'm a believer an' that helps me. I'd have
broken down under the burden often enough if my faith hadn't supported
me. You've had yo' troubles, too, Reuben, an' worse ones."

"It's true, it's true," said the old man, coughing behind his hand, "to
see my po' gal suffer so was worst--but however bad things seemed to us
on top, I've al'ays believed thar was a hidden meanin' in em' that our
eyes couldn't see."

"Ah, you were al'ays a soft natured man, Reuben, too soft natured for
yo' own good, I used to think."

"'Twas that that stood against me with you, Sarah, when we were young.
Do you remember the time you refused to drive back with me from that
picnic at Falling Creek because I wouldn't give Jacob Bumpass a hiding
about something? That was a bitter pill to me, an' I've never forgot
it."

Sarah had flushed a little, and her stern face appeared to have
grown ten years younger. "To think that you ain't forgot all that old
foolishness, Reuben!"

"Well, thar's been time enough an' trouble enough, no doubt," he
answered, "but seein' you lookin' so like yo' old self put me in mind of
it."

"Lord, Reuben, I ain't thought of all that for forty years!"

"No mo' have I, Sarah except when I see you on Sundays sittin' across
the church from me. You were a beauty in yo' day, though some folks use
to think that that little fair thing, Mary Hilliard, was better lookin'.
To me 'twas like settin' a dairy maid beside a queen."

"Even my husband thought Mary Hilliard, was prettier," said Sarah, and
her tone showed that this tribute to her youthful vanity had touched her
heart.

"Well, I never did. You were al'ays too good for me an' I never
begrudged you to Ab