"But Ezra Stone, Myra's husband, wasn't--well, he was peculiar. He was close--he came from a stingy family, and I don't suppose he was more to blame for his stinginess than other folks are for being extravagant--he inherited it. Well, he thought I wasn't needed there: he thought his wife hadn't any too much to do with her babies, and her cows, and her housework--no more than other folks had, he said; and he said I might do better for myself some where else. And he kept at it in his worrying way, till he rather wore us out at last. And so, when Squire Peabody came over one day to say that his wife was sick and much in need of help, Myra said I had better go. I'd have a better time than I'd ever be likely to have in her house; and maybe after awhile I might be able to help her and the children more than I could now. So I went, and I stayed there till--well, till I was married." There was a long pause here, and Mrs Stone spoke very softly when she went on again. "I didn't see so much of Myra after that, as I ought to have done. I used to see her Sundays at meetings, and we met at some of the neighbours' houses sometimes; but I did not go often to her house. I knew she wasn't very happy. She was different from her husband. She had a big heart and a free hand, and hated his small ways. She was nervous too, and high strung; and when she had anything on her mind, it had to come out when occasion called for it. Yes, she could say hard things! "But what she said touched her husband just as the water in the brook touches the stones in its bed. It never moved him; and she wore herself out at last. She had held out through a good deal for the sake of her boys; and when she gave up at last, the end was pretty near. I was with her the last few weeks. She hadn't strength to say much, but it was--`My boys, Ruby! Keep them in mind and help them all you can,' whenever we were alone together. "I think if she had asked me to come and take care of them, and make my home with them, I must have done it. But she didn't. Ezra's mother was living there then, and his sister Susan, and I wasn't needed. But I did pity those pretty slender boys, and the baby between them all. But I couldn't do anything about it, and I didn't see much of them for a good while. "Well, next June I got a letter, which I knew was from Ezra before I opened it; and I said to myself, `He wants me to sell out my share of the farm, or maybe sign off altogether for the benefit of Myra's boys. I have been expecting it all along, and I shan't do it.'