iged to pass David Milliken a second
time; "though there warn't no sign that he cared anything about it one
way or 'nother, bein' blind as a bat, 'n' deef as an adder, 'n' dumb as
a fish, 'n' settin' stockstill there with no coat on, 'n' the wind
blowin' up for rain, 'n' four o' the Millikens layin' in the churchyard
with gallopin' consumption." It was in this frame of mind that she
purchased the whole pepper, which she could have eaten at that moment as
calmly as if it had been marrow-fat peas; and in this frame of mind she
might have continued to the end of time had it not been for one of those
unconsidered trifles that move the world when the great forces have
given up trying. As she came out of the store and passed David, her eye
fell on a patch in the flannel shirt that covered his bent shoulders.
The shirt was gray and (oh, the pity of it!) the patch was red; and it
was laid forlornly on outside, and held by straggling stitches of carpet
thread put on by patient, clumsy fingers. That patch had an irresistible
pathos for a woman!

Samantha Ann Ripley never exactly knew what happened. Even the wisest of
down-East virgins has emotional lapses once in a while, and she
confessed afterwards that her heart riz right up inside of her like a
yeast cake. Mr. Berry, the postmaster, was in the back of the store
reading postal cards. Not a soul was in sight. She managed to get down
over the steps, though something with the strength of tarred ship-ropes
was drawing her back; and then, looking over her shoulder with her whole
brave, womanly heart in her swimming eyes, she put out her hand and
said, "Come along, Dave!"

And David straightway gat him up from the loafer's bench and went unto
Samantha gladly.

And they remembered not past unhappiness because of present joy; nor
that the chill of coming winter was in the air, because it was summer in
their hearts: and this is the eternal magic of love.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Timothy's Quest, by Kate Douglas Wiggin

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