the porch.

"What you got there, Aileen?"

"Something good for you, Uncle Jo. Hannah made it for you on purpose."
She showed him the broth.

"Hannah's a good soul, I thank her kindly. Set down, Aileen, set down."

"I'm afraid you're too tired to have company to-night, Uncle Jo."

"Lord, no--you ain't comp'ny, Aileen, an' I ain't never too tired to
have your comp'ny either."

She smiled and took her seat on the lower step, at his feet.

"Jest thinkin' of you, Aileen--"

"Me, Uncle Jo? What put me into your head?"

"You're in a good part of the time ef you did but know it."

"Oh, Uncle Jo, did they teach you how to flatter like that in the little
old schoolhouse you showed me years ago at The Corners?"

Old Joel Quimber chuckled weakly.

"No--not thar. A man, ef he's any kind of a man, don't have to learn his
a-b-c before he can tell a good-lookin' gal she's in his head, or his
heart--jest which you're a min' ter--most of the time. Yes, I was
thinkin' of you, Aileen--you an' Champney."

The color died out entirely from Aileen's cheeks, and then surged into
them again till she put her hands to her face to cool their throbbing.
She was wondering if Love had entered into some conspiracy with Fate
to-day to keep this beloved name ever in her ears.

"What about me and Mr. Googe?" She spoke in a low tone, her face was
turned away from the old man to the meadows and the sheds in the
distance.

"I was a-thinkin' of this time fourteen year ago this very month. Champ
an' me was walkin' up an' down the street, an' he was tellin' me 'bout
that serenade, an' how you'd give him a rosebud with pepper in it--Lord,
Aileen, you was a case, an' no mistake! An' I was thinkin', too, what
Champ said to me thet very night. He was tellin' 'bout thet great
hell-gate of New York, an' he said, 'You've got to swim with the rest or
you'd go under, Uncle Jo,'--'go under,' them's his very words. An' I
said, 'Like enough _you_ would, Champ--I ain't ben thar--'"

He paused a moment, shuffled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.
Then he spoke again, but in so low a tone that Aileen could barely catch
the words:

"An' he went under, Champ did--went under--"

Aileen felt, without seeing, for her face was still turned to the
meadows and the sheds, that the old man was leaning to her. Then she
heard his voice in her ear:

"Hev you seen him?"

"Once, Uncle Jo."

"You're his friend, ain't you, Aileen?"

"Yes." Her voice tremble