eplied Miss Pendexter humbly. "No 'm, I never
have heard that he died."

"I want to know!" exclaimed the woman of experience. "Well, I'll tell
you this, Abby: you may have regretted your lot, and felt lonesome and
hardshipped, but they all have their faults, and a single woman's got
her liberty, if she ain't got other blessin's."

"'T wouldn't have been my choice to live alone," said Abby, meeker
than before. "I feel very thankful for my blessin's, all the same.
You've always been a kind neighbor, Mis' Bickford."

"Why can't you stop to tea?" asked the elder woman, with unusual
cordiality; but Miss Pendexter remembered that her hostess often
expressed a dislike for unexpected company, and promptly took her
departure after she had risen to go, glancing up at the bright flower
as she passed outside the window. It seemed to belong most to Albert,
but she had not liked to say so. The sun was low; the green fields
stretched away southward into the misty distance.

II.

Mrs. Bickford's house appeared to watch her out of sight down the
road, the next morning. She had lost all spirit for her holiday.
Perhaps it was the unusual excitement of the afternoon's
reminiscences, or it might have been simply the bright moonlight night
which had kept her broad awake until dawn, thinking of the past, and
more and more concerned about the rose. By this time it had ceased to
be merely a flower, and had become a definite symbol and assertion of
personal choice. She found it very difficult to decide. So much of her
present comfort and well-being was due to Mr. Bickford; still, it was
Mr. Wallis who had been most unfortunate, and to whom she had done
least justice. If she owed recognition to Mr. Bickford, she certainly
owed amends to Mr. Wallis. If she gave him the rose, it would be for
the sake of affectionate apology. And then there was Albert, to whom
she had no thought of being either indebted or forgiving. But she
could not escape from the terrible feeling of indecision.

It was a beautiful morning for a drive, but Mrs. Bickford was kept
waiting some time for the chaise. Her nephew, who was to be her
escort, had found much social advantage at the blacksmith's shop, so
that it was after ten when she finally started with the three large
flat-backed bouquets, covered with a newspaper to protect them from
the sun. The petals of the almond flowers were beginning to scatter,
and now and then little streams of water leaked out of the ne