k the rose till mornin'; 't will be
blowed out better then."

"The rose?" questioned Miss Pendexter. "Why, are you goin' to pick
that, too?"

"Yes, I be. I never like to let 'em fade on the bush. There, that's
just what's a-troublin' me," and she turned to give a long, imploring
look at the friend who sat beside her. Miss Pendexter had moved her
chair before the table in order to be out of the way of the sun. "I
don't seem to know which of 'em ought to have it," said Mrs. Bickford
despondently. "I do so hate to make a choice between 'em; they all had
their good points, especially Mr. Bickford, and I respected 'em all. I
don't know but what I think of one on 'em 'most as much as I do of the
other."

"Why, 'tis difficult for you, ain't it?" responded Miss Pendexter. "I
don't know's I can offer advice."

"No, I s'pose not," answered her friend slowly, with a shadow of
disappointment coming over her calm face. "I feel sure you would if
you could, Abby."

Both of the women felt as if they were powerless before a great
emergency.

"There's one thing,--they're all in a better world now," said Miss
Pendexter, in a self-conscious and constrained voice; "they can't feel
such little things or take note o' slights same's we can."

"No; I suppose 't is myself that wants to be just," answered
Mrs. Bickford. "I feel under obligations to my last husband when I
look about and see how comfortable he left me. Poor Mr. Wallis had his
great projects, an' perhaps if he'd lived longer he'd have made a
record; but when he died he'd failed all up, owing to that patent
corn-sheller he'd put everything into, and, as you know, I had to get
along 'most any way I could for the next few years. Life was very
disappointing with Mr. Wallis, but he meant well, an' used to be an
amiable person to dwell with, until his temper got spoilt makin' so
many hopes an' havin' 'em turn out failures. He had consider'ble of an
air, an' dressed very handsome when I was first acquainted with him,
Mr. Wallis did. I don't know's you ever knew Mr. Wallis in his prime?"

"He died the year I moved over here from North Denfield," said Miss
Pendexter, in a tone of sympathy. "I just knew him by sight. I was to
his funeral. You know you lived in what we call the Wells house then,
and I felt it wouldn't be an intrusion, we was such near neighbors.
The first time I ever was in your house was just before that, when he
was sick, an' Mary 'Becca Wade an' I called to see i