s
no use!"

She rose from her rocking-chair and moved feebly towards her bedroom.
"Can you spare me the rest of the day, Ivory?" she faltered, as she
leaned on her son and made her slow progress from the kitchen. "I must
bury the body of my grief and I want to be alone at first... If only
I could see Waitstill! We have both thought this was coming: she has a
woman's instinct... she is younger and stronger than I am, and she said
it was braver not to watch and pine and fret as I have done... but to
have faith in God that He would send me a sign when He was ready.... She
said if I could manage to be braver you would be happier too... ."
Here she sank on to her bed exhausted, but still kept up her murmuring
faintly and feebly, between long intervals of silence.

"Do you think Waitstill could come to-morrow?" she asked. "I am so much
braver when she is here with me.... After supper I will put away your
father's cup and plate once and for all, Ivory, and your eyes need never
fill with tears again, as they have, sometimes, when you have seen me
watching.... You needn't worry about me; I am remembering better these
days, and the bells that ring in my ears are not so loud. If only the
pain in my side were less and I were not so pressed for breath, I should
be quite strong and could see everything clearly at last. ... There is
something else that remains to be remembered. I have almost caught it
once and it must come to me again before long.... Put the locket under
my pillow, Ivory; close the door, please, and leave me to myself.... I
can't make it quite clear, my feeling about it, but it seems just as if
I were going to bury your father and I want to be alone."

XXII. HARVEST-TIME

NEW ENGLAND'S annual pageant of autumn was being unfolded day by day in
all its accustomed splendor, and the feast and riot of color, the almost
unimaginable glory, was the common property of the whole countryside,
rich and poor, to be shared alike if perchance all eyes were equally
alive to the wonder and the beauty.

Scarlet days and days of gold followed fast one upon the other; Saco
Water flowing between quiet woodlands that were turning red and russet
and brown, and now plunging through rocky banks all blazing with
crimson.

Waitstill Baxter went as often as she could to the Boynton farm, though
never when Ivory was at home, and the affection between the younger
and the older woman grew closer and closer, so that it almost broke
Wa