“I’ve a fine little plan that I’d like to carry into execution,” said Miss Zillah. “Down home I have quite a number of pretty mantel ornaments I bought long ago when—when I thought I was going to have a little home of my own. I—I never told you about that, my dears, but it seems a good time to do it now, this being such a wonderful day for us all. You see, I had my wedding clothes made, and I was to marry one of the kindest, fairest-minded men that ever lived in the world. And he—he was killed, dears—thrown from his horse and killed.” Azalea had still kept in the background, those hurt and lonely tears hot beneath her lids; and now, at the story of another’s sorrow, she frankly let them fall. Curiously, though, they were not so hot and bitter as she had thought they would be. “Why, Aunt Zillah,” she murmured, “we never guessed! Yet we might have known. There always was something about you so gentle and sweet—we might have known that you’d had sorrow.” “Few live to my age without having sorrow, Zalie, but my sorrow came in my youth, and it took the zest out of life for a time. However, it was a sweet sorrow. I’ve always been able to keep my lover young and kind in my memory. But what I started to say was, that I put away and never have used the things I got for that little home I meant to have. Now, I’m going to write sister Adnah and ask her to send me my mantel ornaments. They’re very pretty and chaste,” went on Miss Zillah quaintly. “Little shepherds and shepherdesses, piping to each other, and all dressed in the softest pink and blue, and a clock to match. I even have an embroidered cover for the mantel, done in cross stitch and in pastel colors to go with the ornaments. If I give these to Mis’ Cassie and induce her to put them in the spare room she’ll stick the medicine bottles away out of sight.” “They’ll go in that mess under the house,” agreed Carin. “And it will be a grand day for the McEvoys when they do. Oh, Aunt Zillah, how tired and sleepy I am—almost too tired and sleepy to go to bed.” “I feel just the same way,” said Azalea. “Yet I hate to leave the night to itself, it’s so lovely. Sometimes I think I’ll sleep days and keep awake nights, I love the night so much.” “Come,” said Miss Zillah with the voice of authority, “don’t be talking nonsense. We will get to our beds.”