began washing the utensils she had used. By the
time she had removed every trace of her candy-making, the confections
set out on the window sill in the wintry air were firm and hard, all
ready to be wrapped in the squares of paraffine paper and packed in the
boxes waiting for them. She whistled softly as she drew in the plates,
but stopped with a start when she realized that it was Elise's song she
was echoing:
"Amang the train there is a swain
I dearly lo'e mysel'."
"It must be awfully nice," she mused, "to have somebody as devoted to
you as the Lieutenant is to Elise and Jimmy is to A.O. If I were A.O. I
wouldn't care if the whole school came down to meet him. I'd _want_ them
to see him. I made up my mind at Eugenia's wedding that it was safer to
be an old maid, but I'd hate to be one without ever having had an
'affair' like other girls. It must be lovely to be called the Queen of
Hearts like Lloyd, and to have such a train of admirers as Mister Rob
and Mister Malcolm and Phil and all the others."
There was a wistful look in the gray eyes that peered dreamily out of
the window into the gathering dusk of the December twilight. But it was
not the wintry landscape that she saw. It was a big boyish figure,
cake-walking in the little Wigwam kitchen. A handsome young fellow
turning in the highroad to wave his hat with a cheery swing to the
disconsolate little girl who was flapping a farewell to him with her old
white sunbonnet. And then the same face, older grown, smiling at her
through the crowds at the Lloydsboro Valley depot, as he came to her
with outstretched hands, exclaiming, "Good-bye, little Vicar! Think of
the Best Man whenever you look at the Philip on your shilling."
She was thinking of him now so intently that she lost count of the
pieces she had packed into the box she was filling with the squares of
sweets, and had to empty them all out and begin again. But as she
recalled other scenes, especially the time she had overheard a
conversation not intended for her about a turquoise he was offering
Lloyd, she said to herself, "He is for Lloyd. They are just made for
each other, and I am glad that the nicest man I ever knew happens to
like the dearest girl in the world. And I hope if there ever should be
'a swain amang the train' for me, he'll be as near like him as possible.
I don't know where I'd ever meet him, though. Certainly not here and
most positively not in Lone-Rock."
"Not like othe
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