ned to the hotel piazza
in company, and the old man grew still more eloquent over a cigar. He
had not changed much since Tom's residence in the family; in fact, the
flight of seventeen years had made but little difference in his
durable complexion or the tough frame which had been early seasoned by
wind and weather.

"Yes, sir," he said, "Nancy has had it very hard, but she's the life
o' the neighborhood yet. For excellent judgment I never see her equal.
Why, once the board o' selec'men took trouble to meet right there in
her room off the kitchen, when they had to make some responsible
changes in layin' out the school deestricts. She was the best teacher
they ever had, a master good teacher; fitted a boy for Bowdoin College
all except his Greek, that last season before she was laid aside from
sickness. She took right holt to bear it the best she could, and begun
to study on what kind o' things she could do. First she used to make
out to knit, a-layin' there, for the store, but her hands got crippled
up with the rest of her; 't is the wust kind o' rheumatics there is.
She had me go round to the neighborin' schools and say that if any of
the child'n was backward an slow with their lessons to send 'em up to
her. Now an' then there'd be one, an' at last she'd see to some class
there wasn't time for: an' here year before last the town voted her
fifty dollars a year for her services. What do you think of that?"

Aldis manifested his admiration, but he could not help wishing that he
had not seemed to forget so pleasant an old acquaintance, and above
all wished that he had not seemed to take part in nature's great
scheme to defraud her. She had begun life with such distinct rights
and possibilities.

"I tell you she was the most cut up to have to stop dancin'," said
Mr. Gale gayly, "but she held right on to that, same as to other
things. 'I can't dance myself,' she says, 'so I'm goin' to make other
folks.' You see right before you how she's kep' her word, Mr. Aldis?
What always pleased her the most, from a child, was dancin'. Folks
talked to her some about letting her mind rove on them light things
when she appeared to be on a dyin' bed. 'David, he danced afore the
Lord,' she'd tell 'em, an' her eyes would snap so, they didn't like to
say no more."

Aldis laughed, the old man himself was so cheerful.

"Well, sir, she made 'em keep right on with the old dancin'-school she
always took such part in (I guess 't was goin', wa'