Wallis.

He had stopped short in his walk across the little yard, and was staring
at Mom Wallis, recognition gradually growing in his gaze. When he was
fully convinced he turned his eyes to Margaret, as if to ask: "How did
you do it? Wonderful woman!" and a look of deep reverence for her came
over his face.

Then suddenly he noticed the shy embarrassment on the old woman's face,
and swiftly came toward her, his hands outstretched, and, taking her
bony hands in his, bowed low over them as a courtier might do.

"Mom Wallis, you are beautiful. Did you know it?" he said, gently, and
led her to a little stumpy rocking-chair with a gay red-and-blue rag
cushion that Mrs. Tanner always kept sitting by the front door in
pleasant weather. Then he stood off and surveyed her, while the red
stole into her cheeks becomingly. "What has Miss Earle been doing to
glorify you?" he asked, again looking at her earnestly.

The old woman looked at him in awed silence. There was that word
again--glory! He had said the girl had glorified her. There was then
some glory in her, and it had been brought out by so simple a thing as
the arrangement of her hair. It frightened her, and tears came and stood
in her tired old eyes.

It was well for Mom Wallis's equilibrium that Mr. Tanner came out just
then with the paper he had gone after, for the stolidity of her lifetime
was about breaking up. But, as he turned, Gardley gave her one of the
rarest smiles of sympathy and understanding that a young man can give to
an old woman; and Margaret, watching, loved him for it. It seemed to her
one of the most beautiful things a young man had ever done.

They had discussed the article in the paper thoroughly, and had looked
at the photographs that Margaret had brought down; and Mrs. Tanner had
come to the door numberless times, looking out in a troubled way down
the road, only to trot back again, look in the oven, peep in the kettle,
sigh, and trot out to the door again. At last she came and stood, arms
akimbo, and looked down the road once more.

"Pa, I don't just see how I can keep the dinner waitin' a minute longer,
The potatoes 'll be sp'iled. I don't see what's keepin' that
preacher-man. He musta been invited out, though I don't see why he
didn't send me word."

"That's it, likely, Ma," said Tanner. He was growing hungry. "I saw Mis'
Bacon talkin' to him. She's likely invited him there. She's always
tryin' to get ahead o' you, Ma, you know, 'cause yo