"I'm breaking down my black alpaccy," was the reply. "I'm goin' to have it made over, and trimmed with crape." "Trimmed with crape? What for?" "Oh! I'm a widow now." "A widow!" "Yes, Peter's gone. I knew he couldn't last much longer. He's been failin', gradual, for a week. You must ha' noticed it." "But I didn't think," Patty began, wondering how to phrase the condolences it seemed proper to offer under the circumstances. "No, nor I didn't, neither," the widow remarked, as she hesitated. "I thought he'd hold out longer, or I'd have been more forehanded with my black dress. Anyway I'm glad he got through it before cold weather sot in. It's easier for him. And, besides, Mrs. Brown's house is awful draughty, spec'ly as she never gets ready to have it banked before spring." "If we can do any thing for you," Patty said, exerting herself to preserve a grave face, "we shall be glad to." "Thank you kindly," the servant answered. "I'll let you know if there is. I never had much comfort as Peter's wife," she added; "for he was real onery, as you might say: but it's some satisfaction to be his widow; widows are so respectable." This was too much for Patty's gravity; and she retreated precipitately, leaving the widow to "break down" her black dress at leisure. Peter Mixon was interred with due solemnity, aunty Jeff coming to take her part in the mourning, with much unction. She had never favored her niece's marriage, it was true, and regarded the deceased as a very black sheep indeed. But to her mind numerous funerals conferred a certain distinction upon a family, and it was a duty which she owed at once to her relatives and to society to see that the mourning was properly attended to. So the dead man was put under the sod, and in time came to the one good appointed to all men,--to nourish the grass and the daisies. Bathalina arrayed herself in her widow's weeds with the satisfaction of a new importance, and began soon to speak of her departed spouse with great regret and affection, persuading herself in time that she sincerely mourned for him, and lamenting that her "sinful pride" had made necessary for her good the severe trial of his loss. And here it may be mentioned that Frank Breck searched carefully among the effects of the dead man for certain papers which he did not find, because they were in the possession of Patty Sanford. CHAPTER XL. CLARENCE AGAIN. Soberly and slowly Patty was walking towards home on the last day of November. The rain had been falling at intervals through the day, interspersed with spits of snow. Not far from her own gate Patty encountered Clarence Toxteth. The afternoon was already drawing to a close, the gray clouds cutting off the last faint rays of daylight; and, as the young man was somewhat near-sighted, he did not recognize her until they were face to face. "Ah!" he said. "I am delighted to meet you. I have been to see you." "Will you turn back now?" she responded.