Lavender and Old Lace

"It needs the alchemist's touch," he said, "to change our sordid world

to gold."

"We can all learn," she replied, "and even if we don't try, it comes to

us once."

"What?" asked Ruth.

"Happiness--even if it isn't until the end. In every life there is a

perfect moment, like a flash of sun. We can shape our days by that, if

we will--before by faith, and afterward by memory."

The conversation drifted to less serious things. Ruth, remembering

that Miss Ainslie did not hear the village gossip, described her aunt's

home-coming, the dismissal of Hepsey, and told her of the wedding which

was to take place that evening. Winfield was delighted, for he had

never heard her talk so well, but Miss Ainslie listened with gentle

displeasure.

"I did not think Miss Hathaway would ever be married abroad," she said.

"I think she should have waited until she came home. It would have been

more delicate to let him follow her. To seem to pursue a gentleman,

however innocent one may be, is--is unmaidenly."

Winfield choked, then coughed violently.

"Understand me, dear," Miss Ainslie went on, "I do not mean to criticise

your aunt--she is one of my dearest friends. Perhaps I should not have

spoken at all," she concluded in genuine distress.

"It's all right, Miss Ainslie," Ruth assured her, "I know just how you

feel."

Winfield, having recovered his composure, asked a question about the

garden, and Miss Ainslie led them in triumph around her domain. She

gathered a little nosegay of sweet-williams for Ruth, who was over among

the hollyhocks, then she said shyly: "What shall I pick for you?"

"Anything you like, Miss Ainslie. I am at a loss to choose."

She bent over and plucked a leaf of rosemary, looking at him long and

searchingly as she put it into his hand.

"For remembrance," she said, with the deep fire burning in her eyes.

Then she added, with a pitiful hunger in her voice: "Whatever happens, you won't forget me?"

"Never!" he answered, strangely stirred.

"Thank you," she whispered brokenly, drawing away from him. "You look so

much like--like some one I used to know."

At dusk they went into the house. Except for the hall, it was square,

with two partitions dividing it. The two front rooms were separated by

an arch, and the dining-room and kitchen were similarly situated at the

back of the house, with a china closet and pantry between them.

Miss Ainslie's table, of solid mahogany, was covered only with fine

linen doilies, after a modern fashion, and two quaint candlesticks, of

solid silver, stood opposite each other. In the centre, in a silver vase

of foreign pattern, there was a great bunch of asters--white and pink

and blue.

The repast was simple--chicken fried to a golden brown, with creamed

potatoes, a salad made of fresh vegetables from the garden, hot

biscuits, deliciously light, and the fragrant Chinese tea, served in the

Royal Kaga cups, followed by pound cake, and pears preserved in a heavy

red syrup.