' what we like
best. I know 'tis so with mother. Seems if, if she walked in here this
minute, we shouldn't have so very many stitches to take up. Sometimes
I've thought all I should say would be, 'Well, mother, you've got back,
ain't you?' Kinder like that."

The beautiful afternoon light lay on the grass and turned the grapevine
to a tender green. Jared looked upon the land as if he were treasuring
it in his heart for a day of loss. When the sun was low, and green and
red were flaming in the west, he rose.

"Well, 'Melia," he said, "I've seen you. Now I'll go."

Amelia stirred, too, recalled to service.

"I want to make you a cup o' tea," she said. "You get me a pail o' fresh
water, Jared. 'Twon't take but a minute."

He followed her about, this time, while she set the table; and again
they broke bread together. When he rose from his chair now, it was for
good.

"Well, 'Melia," he said; and she gave him her hand.

She went with him to the door, and stood there as he started down the
path. Half-way he hesitated, and then came back to her. His eyes were
soft and kindly.

"'Melia," he said, "I ain't told you the half, an' I dunno 's I can tell
it now. I never knew how things were with you. I've laid awake nights,
wonderin'. You never was very strong. 'Why,' says I to myself many a
night when I'd hear the wind blowin' ag'inst the winder, 'mebbe she's
had to go out to work. Mebbe she ain't got a place to lay her head.'"

He was rushing on in a full tide of confidence, and she recalled him.
She leaned forward to him, out of the doorway of her beautiful house,
and spoke in an assuring tone.

"Don't you worry no more, Jared. I'm safe an' well content, an' you
ain't got nothin' to regret. An' when we meet again,--I guess 'twon't be
here, dear, it'll be t'other side,--why, we'll sit down an' have another
dish o' talk."

Then they shook hands again, and Jared walked away. When he looked back
from the top of Schoolma'am Hill, she was still in the doorway, and she
waved her hand to him.

After that last glimpse of him, Amelia went soberly about the house,
setting it in order. When her dishes were washed and she had fed old
Trot, the cat, forgotten all day, she rolled up the fine tablecloth and
left it behind the porch-door, where she could take it on her way home.
Then she sat down on the front steps and waited for old lady Knowles.
Amelia did not think very much about her day. It was still a possession
to be laid a