" The little
dressmaker's voice broke, then went on tremulously: "There are folks
like that, you know--that never enjoy a thing for what it is, lest
sometime they might want it--different. Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
never took the good that was goin'; they've always saved it for
sometime--later."
A Belated Honeymoon
The haze of a warm September day hung low over the house, the garden,
and the dust-white road. On the side veranda a gray-haired, erect little
figure sat knitting. After a time the needles began to move more and
more slowly until at last they lay idle in the motionless, withered
fingers.
"Well, well, Abby, takin' a nap?" demanded a thin-chested, wiry old man
coming around the corner of the house and seating himself on the veranda
steps.
The little old woman gave a guilty start and began to knit vigorously.
"Dear me, no, Hezekiah. I was thinkin'." She hesitated a moment, then
added, a little feverishly: "--it's ever so much cooler here than up ter
the fair grounds now, ain't it, Hezekiah?"
The old man threw a sharp look at her face. "Hm-m, yes," he said. "Mebbe
't is."
From far down the road came the clang of a bell. As by common consent
the old man and his wife got to their feet and hurried to the front of
the house where they could best see the trolley-car as it rounded a
curve and crossed the road at right angles.
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