“I trust you will find a item or two as will be of interest,” he said, after a lengthy pause. Rachel contented herself with an emphatic-seeming little nod at the flower-bed. “Good-day, Miss Blythe.” “Good-day, Mr. Gold, and thank you very much for being so good as to think of me.” They did not encounter again until the following Sunday morning, when the banns between Ruth and Reuben were called a second time. The ringers were at work again when Ezra and Rachel met in the porch as the church-goers streamed slowly away, and the two shook hands mutely. They walked on side by side until Ezra's house was reached, and neither spoke until then. Pausing before the door, Miss Blythe put out her hand. “If I might be allowed to go a little farther, Miss Blythe,” said Ezra, gently. Rachel withdrew her hand and said nothing. So once more they walked, apart from other home-going worshippers, down the lane that led to Rachel's cottage. “Did you,” began Ezra, pausing to cough behind his hand--“did you tek a look at the paper, Miss Blythe?” He received a nod for sole answer, unless the pinching of the lips and an unconsciously affected maiden drooping of the eyelids might be supposed to add to it. “Did you happen to read a particular item,” said Ezra, pausing to cough behind his hand again, “a item in the letter from Paris?” “Really, Mr. Gold,” said Rachel, marching on with exceeding stateliness, and looking straight before her, “at our ages that piece of news would offer a very frivolous theme for conversation.” “Might we not talk of it without being frivolous, Miss Blythe?” asked Ezra. “Decidedly not, in my opinion,” Miss Blythe responded. “To talk of love,” pursued Ezra, glancing at her now and then, “in the sense young people use the word, between persons of the ages of that lady and gentleman, 'ud be frivolous indeed. But I persoom, Miss Blythe, they did not talk so.” “I should think not, indeed,” said Rachel, with decision. “I should hope not.” “But to talk of love as love is betwixt the elderly--to talk of companionship--to talk of shelterin' one another again the loneliness of late old age--to talk of each one tekin' up the little remnant of life as was left to 'em and putting it i' the other's hands for kindly keepin'! Should you think as that was ridiculous, Rachel?” “I should think,” said Rachel, “that old fools are the greatest fools of all.” Ezra sighed. “I do not know,” she said at this, “that the poor-marquis is so much to blame, but the lady should have known better than listen to his folly.” “I had thought,” said Ezra, patiently, “you would ha' took a different view of it, Rachel.” They went on to the gate without another word. “Good-morning, Rachel,” Ezra said there. “Don't be afraid of me. I will not come back again to this subject. I had hoped you would not ha' looked on it with such mislikin'; but sence you do, I will say no more about it.”