“Wal, Emerline Ruggles,” says she, after a while, going back to her work, “you’ve lost all your pink cheeks!”

I suppose it took me rather sudden, for all at once a tear sprung and fell right down my work.  I saw it glistening on the bright needles a minute, and then my eyes filmed so that I felt there was more coming, and I bent down to the fire and made believe count my narrowings.  After all, Aunt Mimy was kind of privileged by everybody to say what she pleased.  But Stephen didn’t do as every one did, always.

“Emmie’s beauty wasn’t all in her pink cheeks, Miss Mimy,” I heard him say, as I went into the back-entry to ask mother to bring down the mate of my sock.

“Wal, wherever it was, there’s precious little of it left!” said she, angry at being took up, which maybe she never was before in her life.

“You don’t agree with her friends,” said he, cutting in the stick the great mole on the side of her nose; “they all think she’s got more than ever she had.”

Mother tossed me down the mate, and I went back.

“Young folks,” said Aunt Mimy, after two or three minutes’ silence, “did ye ever hear tell o’ ’Miah Kemp?”

“Any connection of old Parson Kemp in the other parish?” asked Stephen.

“Yes,” said Aunt Mimy,—­“his brother.  Wal, w’en I wuz a young gal, livin’ ter hum,—­my father wuz ez wealthy ez any farmer thereabeouts, ye know,—­I used ter keep company ’ith ’Miah Kemp.  ’Miah wuz a stun-mason, the best there wuz in the deestrik, an’ the harnsomest boy there tew,—­though I say it thet shouldn’t say it,—­he hed close-curlin’ black hair, an’ an arm it done ye good ter lean on.  Wal, one spring-night,—­I mind it well,—­we wuz walkin’ deown the lane together, an’ the wind wuz blowin’, the laylocks wuz in bloom, an’ all overhead the lane wuz rustlin’ ‘ith the great purple plumes in the moonlight, an’ the air wuz sweeter ‘ith their breath than any air I’ve ever taken sence, an’ ez we wuz walkin’, ‘Miah wuz askin’ me fur ter fix eour weddin’-day.  Wal, w’en he left me at the bars, I agreed we’d be merried the fifteenth day uv July comin’, an’ I walked hum; an’ I mind heow I wondered ef Eve wuz so happy in Paradise, or ef Paradise wuz half so beautiful ez thet scented lane.  The nex’ mornin’, ez I wuz milkin’, the ceow tuk fright an’ begun ter cut up, an’ she cut up so thet I run an’ she arter me,—­an’ the long an’ the short uv it wuz thet she tossed me, an’ w’en they got me up they foun’ I hedn’t but one eye.  Wal, uv course, my looks wuz sp’iled,—­fur I’d been ez pretty’z Emerline wuz,—­you wuz pretty once, Emerline,—­an’ I sent ’Miah Kemp word I’d hev no more ter du ’ith him nor any one else neow.  ’Miah, he come ter see me; but I wuz detarmined, an’ I stuck ter my word.  He did an’ said everything thet mortal man could,—­thet he loved me better’n ever, an’ thet ’t would be the death uv him, an’ tuk on drefful.  But w’en he’d got through, I giv’