his supper tray held all
the dishes he most liked, he did not let his expression betray him, but
ate his well-cooked meal peaceably and enjoyably until Elizabeth came to
take away his tray, when his feeble hand caught hold of her hard one,
trying to give it the rightful pressure.

"I can't," the old maid answered sorrowfully; "it's only because you are
sorry for me."

And Uncle Ambrose hesitated. To tell any woman he did not love her, here
at the end of his seventy-six years! "I'm growin' powerful fond of you,
'Lizabeth Horton," he hedged, "but ef I'm sorry too, what's the odds? I
reckon I'm sorry fer myself and been sorry fer most everybody I've
knowed in this world one time or another. But mebbe you kin see things
better like this. I'm more'n anxious fer you to look after me till I die
and keep me from gittin' too darned lonesome and, moreover, I want to
leave you this here cottage when I go away. See here, 'Lizabeth, I've
done had some experience with women and I've been thinkin' a lot on what
you said to me that evenin' you come over here to dry your tears. I kin
see there are some women who kin live 'thout husbands and some that's
just got to live 'thout children, but there's some women that ain't able
to live 'thout homes of their own. Why, you poor old 'Lizabeth, you'd
just pine away and die ef the time ever come when you didn't have a
house to keep: it would be worse'n food starvin', 'cause it would last
longer. I ain't no children of my own"--and even now Uncle Ambrose
winced at saying it--"and what with selling my interest in the store
when Miner went and a remembrance from Peachy I got a tidy sum of money
in the bank. So I've got no special call to leave my money to nobody,
but I know Pennyrile, and she sure would make it warm fer you ef I
willed you my property 'thout makin' you my wife. Give me my answer,
'Lizabeth; I ain't tryin' to bribe you, though I want you to stay by me,
but I'm gittin' kind er tired and I ain't said all I've got to say yet."

And here Uncle Ambrose turned his eyes for another time toward Emily's
picture with their familiar appeal for light in dark places.

"There is one more request I'm bound to make, but it ain't goin' to hurt
you or any female to be sensible."

"Uncle Ambrose," the old maid faltered, her yellow cheeks flushing
palely, "ef you're sure you want to marry me I shall be plumb glad. I
like to stay here and take care of you, and I don't want to leave you or
this hou