in this part o' the
State. I could hear him singin' to himself right out in the field
a-ploughin' or hoein', an' he didn't know it half o' the time, no more
'n a common bird would. I don't know's I valued his gift as I ought
to, but there was nothin' ever sounded so sweet to me. I ain't one
that ever had much fancy, but I knowed Albert had a pretty voice."

Mrs. Bickford's own voice trembled a little, but she held up the last
bouquet and examined it critically. "I must hurry now an' put these in
water," she said, in a matter of fact tone. Little Miss Pendexter was
so quiet and sympathetic that her hostess felt no more embarrassed
than if she had been talking only to herself.

"Yes, they do seem to droop some; 't is a little warm for them here in
the sun," said Miss Pendexter; "but you'll find they'll all come up if
you give them their fill o' water. They'll look very handsome
to-morrow; folks'll notice them from the road. You've arranged them
very tasty, Mis' Bickford."

"They do look pretty, don't they?" Mrs. Bickford regarded the three in
turn. "I want to have them all pretty. You may deem it strange, Abby."

"Why, no, Mis' Bickford," said the guest sincerely, although a little
perplexed by the solemnity of the occasion. "I know how 'tis with
friends,--that having one don't keep you from wantin' another; 'tis
just like havin' somethin' to eat, and then wantin' somethin' to drink
just the same. I expect all friends find their places."

But Mrs. Bickford was not interested in this figure, and still looked
vague and anxious as she began to brush the broken stems and wilted
leaves into her wide calico apron. "I done the best I could while they
was alive," she said, "and mourned 'em when I lost 'em, an' I feel
grateful to be left so comfortable now when all is over. It seems
foolish, but I'm still at a loss about that rose."

"Perhaps you'll feel sure when you first wake up in the morning,"
answered Miss Pendexter solicitously. "It's a case where I don't deem
myself qualified to offer you any advice. But I'll say one thing,
seeing's you've been so friendly spoken and confiding with me. I never
was married myself, Mis' Bickford, because it wa'n't so that I could
have the one I liked."

"I suppose he ain't livin', then? Why, I wan't never aware you had met
with a disappointment, Abby," said Mrs. Bickford instantly. None of
her neighbors had ever suspected little Miss Pendexter of a romance.

"Yes 'm, he's livin'," r