n' around up in the garret, and I come
across this bundle of pieces, and thinks I, 'I reckon it's intended
for me to piece one more quilt before I die;' I must 'a' put 'em there
thirty years ago and clean forgot 'em, and I've been settin' here all
the evenin' cuttin' 'em and thinkin' about old times.

"Jest feel o' that," she continued, tossing some scraps into my lap.
"There ain't any such caliker nowadays. This ain't your five-cent
stuff that fades in the first washin' and wears out in the second. A
caliker dress was somethin' worth buyin' and worth makin' up in them
days. That blue-flowered piece was a dress I got the spring before
Abram died. When I put on mournin' it was as good as new, and I give
it to sister Mary. That one with the green ground and white figger was
my niece Rebecca's. She wore it for the first time to the County Fair
the year I took the premium on my salt-risin' bread and sponge cake.
This black-an'-white piece Sally Ann Flint give me. I ricollect 'twas
in blackberry time, and I'd been out in the big pasture pickin' some
for supper, and I stopped in at Sally Ann's for a drink o' water on my
way back. She was cuttin' out this dress."

Aunt Jane broke off with a little soprano laugh.

"Did I ever tell you about Sally Ann's experience?" she said, as she
laid two three-cornered pieces together and began to sew with her
slender, nervous old fingers.

To find Aunt Jane alone and in a reminiscent mood! This was
delightful.

"Do tell me," I said.

Aunt Jane was silent for a few moments. She always made this pause
before beginning a story, and there was something impressive about it.
I used to think she was making an invocation to the goddess of Memory.

"'Twas forty years ago," she began musingly, "and the way of it was
this. Our church was considerably out o' fix. It needed a new roof.
Some o' the winder lights was out, and the floor was as bare as your
hand, and always had been. The men folks managed to git the roof
shingled and the winders fixed, and us women in the Mite Society
concluded we'd git a cyarpet. We'd been savin' up our money for some
time, and we had about twelve dollars. I ricollect what a argument we
had, for some of us wanted the cyarpet, and some wanted to give it to
furrin missions, as we'd set out to do at first. Sally Ann was the one
that settled it. She says at last--Sally Ann was in favor of the
cyarpet--she says, 'Well, if any of the heathen fails to hear the
gospel on