Harriet Prescott Spofford

“ Poor Si Martin! I wouldn't like to die an' go out on sech a gale. He ain't long to live. I told him to-night—you ain't got no grudge agin' him, have you, mother? It's wrong to keep a grudge; it is, cert'in. I hope you ain't. I told Rufe ter bring Si over here ter die comfor'ble—-an' the gel—Lois. D'ye s'pose any o' the angels was ever called Lois? You don't mind? It 'll be more work—some—but she'll help out. I feel to be thankful. I got my youth back. I got the very fulness o' my dreams. I got my little darter an' my wife ”

“ Mrs. Somers sighed. " 'Twas pleasant," she said. "Seems as ef sech times had orter last. They go so quick we don't half sense 'em. But there—we're pretty happy as we be."
"Be'n happier ef Bud hadn't been a boy."
"Bud's the best boy—" cried the indignant mother.
"She might have be'n the best gel. And, anyways, I'd 'a' liked a gel about. Sort o' bright an' tender like the sweetbriers growin' beside the rocks in the pastur' 'ith their little sweet blows. Yes, I'd a-liked a darter. W'y, it's awful, Elviry, to grow old an' not have a darter ter close your eyes." ”

“ Rufus? What you talkin' about!"
"Rufus. And the girl he is engaged to marry."
Rufus's father wheeled about, to the imminent danger of his eyes and the points of the open scissors. "What in the name of common sense— Why, Elviry, what you mean?"
"I mean w'at I say, father."
"Rufus? Why, you can't! It's—it's redic'lous. He ain't growed up. He's—he's—"
"Now, father, 'tain't no use to sputter this way. You set still! How can I cut 'ith you dancin' round like a teetotum? Rufus is a man—"
"A man! He ain't never hed a freedom suit." ”

“ Her husband with his one bitterness! The girl who was to rob her of her boy—child of that other woman, too! She turned her pillow again and again. "I never could sleep with the moon in the room," she said, as she saw the beams glancing on the bare sprays at the window, dancing like witches in the wind. ”

“ But he began to sing "Jerusalem, my Happy Home," in a voice that had not yet lost its sweet sonority; and very soon Lois came out, Rufe following.
"I do love to sing," she said.
"That finishes it!" John Somers cried, as Lois joined in and took the air. "A live flute in the house!"
Rufus went out to harness and bring the horse to the door. The girl had her red hood on, and was tying her big cloak when he came in. "Father," he said, taking Lois's hand. "P'r'aps you don't know that this is Mr. Si Martin's daughter." ”

“ Mrs. Somers replied, deprecatingly. "I'll show ye some day. The old loom's up-garret. I wove the first gownd Rufus ever had on it. We don't do it now. It's so cheap to buy—but my! there's no life in 'em. They don't wear."
Supper was ready presently.
"Here, Lois," said Mrs. Somers. "Here's your place; by me."
"No, no," said her husband, bringing his hand down on the table. "My darter's place is here. She'll set 'tween me and Rufe." ”