him the same answer, though betwixt ourselves it a’most broke my heart ter say it.  I kep’ a stiff upper-lip, an’ he grew desp’rate, an’ tuk all sorts uv dangerous jobs, blastin’ rocks an’ haulin’ stuns.  One night,—­’t wuz jest a year from the night I’d walked ’ith him in thet lane,—­I wuz stan’in’ by the door, an’ all ter once I heerd a noise an’ crash ez ef all the thunderbolts in the Almighty’s hand hed fallen together, an’ I run deown the lane an’ met the men bringin’ up sunthin’ on an old door.  They hed been blastin’ Elder Payson’s rock, half-way deown the new well, an’ the mine hedn’t worked, an’ ’Miah’d gone deown ter see w’at wuz in it; an’ jest ez he got up ag’in, off it went, an’ here he wuz ’ith a great splinter in his chist,—­ef the rest uv it wuz him.  They couldn’t kerry him no furder, an’ sot him deown; an’ there wuz all the trees a-wavin’ overhead ag’in, an’ all the sweet scents a-beatin’ abeout the air, jest uz it wuz a year ago w’en he parted from me so strong an’ whole an’ harnsome; all the fleowers wuz a-blossomin’, all the winds wuz blowin’ an’ this lump uv torn flesh an’ broken bones wuz ’Miah.  I laid deown on the grass beside him, an’ put my lips close to hisn, an’ I could feel the breath jest stirrin’ between; an’ the doctor came an’ said ‘t warn’t no use; an’ they threw a blanket over us, an’ there I laid tell the sun rose an’ sparkled in the dew an’ the green leaves an’ the purple bunches, an’ the air came frolickin’ fresh an’ sweet abeout us; an’ though I’d knowed it long, layin’ there in the dark, neow I see fur sartain thet there warn’t no breath on them stiff lips, an’ the forehead was cold uz the stuns beneath us, an’ the eyes wuz fixed an’ glazed in thet las’ look uv love an’ tortur’ an’ reproach thet he giv’ me.  They say I went distracted; an’ I du b’lieve I’ve be’n cracked ever sence.”

Here Aunt Mimy, who had told her whole story without moving a muscle, commenced rocking violently back and forth.

“I don’t often remember all this,” says she, after a little, “but las’ spring it all flushed over me; an’ w’en I heerd heow Emerline’d be’n sick,—­I hear a gre’t many things ye do’ no’ nothin’ abeout, children,—­I thought I’d tell her, fust time I see her.”

“What made you think of it last spring?” asked Stephen.

“The laylocks wuz in bloom,” said Miss Mirny,—­“the laylocks wuz in bloom.”

Just then mother came down with the apples, and some dip-candles, and a basket of broken victuals; and Miss Mimy tied her cloak and said she believed she must be going.  And Stephen went and got his hat and coat, and said,—­

“Miss Mimy, wouldn’t you like a little company to help you carry your bundles?  Come, Emmie, get your shawl.”

So I ran and put on my things, and Stephen and I went home with Aunt Mimy.

“Emmie,” says Stephen, as we were coming back, and he’d got hold of my hand in his, where I’d taken his arm, “what do you think of Aunt Mimy now?”