“No; I suppose ’tis myself that wants to be just,” answered Mrs. Bickford. “I feel under obligations to my last husband when I look about and see how comfortable he left me. Poor Mr. Wallis had his great projects, an’ perhaps if he’d lived longer he’d have made a record; but when he died he’d failed all up, owing to that patent cornsheller he’d put everything into, and, as you know, I had to get along ’most any way I could for the next few years. Life was very disappointing with Mr. Wallis, but he meant well, an’ used to be an amiable person to dwell with, until his temper got spoilt makin’ so many hopes an’ havin’ ’em turn out failures. He had consider’ble of an air, an’ dressed very handsome when I was first acquainted with him, Mr. Wallis did. I don’t know ’s you ever knew Mr. Wallis in his prime?” “He died the year I moved over here from North Denfield,” said Miss Pendexter, in a tone of sympathy. “I just knew him by sight. I was to his funeral. You know you lived in what we call the Wells house then, and I felt it wouldn’t be an intrusion, we was such near neighbors. The first time I ever was in your house was just before that, when he was sick, an’ Mary ’Becca Wade an’ I called to see if there was anything we could do.” “They used to say about town that Mr. Wallis went to an’ fro like a mail-coach an’ brought nothin’ to pass,” announced Mrs. Bickford without bitterness. “He ought to have had a better chance than he did in this little neighborhood. You see, he had excellent ideas, but he never’d learned the machinist’s trade, and there was somethin’ the matter with every model he contrived. I used to be real narrow-minded when he talked about moving ’way up to Lowell, or some o’ them places; I hated to think of leaving my folks; and now I see that I never done right by him. His ideas was good. I know once he was on a jury, and there was a man stopping to the tavern where he was, near the court house, a man that traveled for a firm to Lowell; and they engaged in talk, an’ Mr. Wallis let out some o’ his notions an’ contrivances, an’ he said that man wouldn’t hardly stop to eat, he was so interested, an’ said he’d look for a chance for him up to Lowell. It all sounded so well that I kind of begun to think about goin’ myself. Mr. Wallis said we’d close the house here, and go an’ board through the winter. But he never heard a word from him, and the disappointment was one he never got over. I think of it now different from what I did then. I often used to be kind of disapproving to Mr. Wallis; but there, he used to be always tellin’ over his great projects. Somebody told me once that a man by the same name of the one he met while he was to court had got some patents for the very things Mr. Wallis used to be workin’ over; but ’twas after he died, an’ I don’t know ’s ’twas in him to ever really set things up so other folks could ha’ seen their value. His machines always used to work kind of