Lavender and Old Lace

Ruth, aglow with happiness, put her arms around Miss Ainslie's neck and

kissed her tenderly. "May I, too?" asked Winfield.

He drew her toward him, without waiting for an answer, and Miss Ainslie

trembled from head to foot as she lifted her face to his.

Across the way the wedding was in full blast, but neither of them cared

to go. Ruth turned back for a last glimpse of the garden and its gentle

mistress, but she was gone, and the light from her candle streamed out

until it rested upon a white hollyhock, nodding drowsily.

To Ruth, walking in the starlight with her lover, it seemed as if the

world had been made new. The spell was upon Winfield for a long time,

but at last he spoke.

"If I could have chosen my mother," he said, simply, "she would have

been like Miss Ainslie."