knows what else. He didn't want
to argue, and was all the time tryin' to change the subject, but it was
no use. I never got a chance to say a dozen words to him, and finally,
when he got up to go, he says: 'I've had a very pleasant evenin', and
I'd like to come again sometime soon, if I may,' he says. Just like
that.

[Sidenote: A Souvenir]

"And before I could say a word, Ma had said: 'I dunno as we feel
ourselves in need of your particular brand of theology,' she says. 'It's
my opinion that you ought to be up before the trustees instead of around
callin' on faithful members of the church, sowin' the seeds of doubt in
their minds.'"

"His face turned bright red, but he shook hands with Ma, very polite,
and with me. I've always thought he squeezed my hand a little. And he
says to me, very pleasant: 'Good-night, Miss Matilda,' but that was all,
for Ma went to the door with him and banged it shut before he'd got down
the steps.

"The day before he went away, I met him in the post-office, accidental,
and he says: 'Miss Matilda, I've got somethin' for you if you'll accept
it,' and he took me over to one side where there couldn't nobody see us,
and he give me his tintype. And he says: 'I hope you'll always remember
me, Miss Matilda. You'll promise not to forget me, won't you?'

"And I promised," she resumed, "and I ain't. I've always remembered."

There was a long silence, then Miss Matilda cleared her throat. "Light
the candle, Rosemary, will you?"

When the tiny flame appeared, Rosemary saw that the older woman's face
was wet with unaccustomed tears. She reached down into the bosom of her
dress and drew out a small packet, which she removed carefully from its
many wrappings. "See," she said.

[Sidenote: It Might Have Been]

Rosemary leaned over to look at the pictured face. The heavy beard did
not wholly conceal the sensitive, boyish mouth, and even the crude art
had faithfully portrayed the dreamy, boyish eyes.

"I want to ask you something," Aunt Matilda said, as she wrapped it up
again. "You're going to be married yourself, now, and you'll know about
such things. Do you think, if it hadn't been for Ma, it might have
been--anything?"

Rosemary put out the light. "I'm sure it would," she said, kindly.

"Oh, Rosemary!" breathed the other, with a quick indrawing of the
breath. "Are you truly sure?"

"Truly," said Rosemary, very softly. Then she added, convincingly: "You
know Alden's never been to see me bu