kind of hinted he mightn't be
rich. If he came back poor, after all her boasting about him, I don't
fancy he'd get much of a welcome from her. And she'd never hold up her
head again, that's certain. So it's to be hoped, say I, that Ralph
Walworth never will turn up, unless he comes in a carriage and four,
which is about as likely, in my opinion, as that he'll come in a
pumpkin drawn by mice."

When October had passed and the grey November days came, the glory of
Miss Hannah's garden was over. She was very lonely without her
flowers. She missed them more this year than ever. On fine days she
paced up and down the walks and looked sadly at the drooping,
unsightly stalks and vines. She was there one afternoon when the
northeast wind was up and doing, whipping the gulf waters into
whitecaps and whistling up the inlet and around the grey eaves. Miss
Hannah was mournfully patting a frosted chrysanthemum under its golden
chin when she saw a man limping slowly down the lane.

"Now, who can that be?" she murmured. "It isn't any Prospect man, for
there's nobody lame around here."

She went to the garden gate to meet him. He came haltingly up the
slope and paused before her, gazing at her wistfully. He looked old
and bent and broken, and his clothes were poor and worn. Who was he?
Miss Hannah felt that she ought to know him, and her memory went
groping back amongst all her recollections. Yet she could think of
nobody but her father, who had died fifteen years before.

"Don't ye know me, Hannah?" said the man wistfully. "Have I changed so
much as all that?"

"Ralph!"

It was between a cry and a laugh. Miss Hannah flew through the gate
and caught him in her arms. "Ralph, my own dear brother! Oh, I always
knew you'd come back. If you knew how I've looked forward to this
day!" She was both laughing and crying now. Her face shone with a soft
gladness. Ralph Walworth shook his head sadly.

"It's a poor wreck of a man I am come back to you, Hannah," he said.
"I've never accomplished anything and my health's broken and I'm a
cripple as ye see. For a time I thought I'd never show my face back
here, such a failure as I be, but the longing to see you got too
strong. It's naught but a wreck I am, Hannah."

"You're my own dear brother," cried Miss Hannah. "Do you think I care
how poor you are? And if your health is poor I'm the one to nurse you
up, who else than your only sister, I'd like to know! Come right in.
You're shivering in