[Women always like to allude to their husbands in presence of an old admirer; as much as to say, 'Don't think I am without somebody to care for and protect me;' or, 'Don't fancy I mean to forget my husband because I choose to be chattering with you;' or--or--or--a dozen things else.] Hiram replied in his old artful way, very seriously, and with an air of sadness (as he made allusion to his mother's situation), yet with a touch of embarrassment (all assumed), while his voice assumed a tenderness of feeling which it would seem impossible for him to restrain in consequence of the suddenness of the meeting. 'Is she indeed so ill?' asked Mrs. Williams. 'We understood she was greatly afflicted by a stroke of paralysis, but I had no thought of immediate danger.' 'She cannot live,' replied Hiram, his lips quivering. 'Oh, Mr. Meeker, do not say that. I cannot bear to hear it. You know how attached I always was to your mother.' 'Call me Hiram,' was the response. 'It will put me in mind of old times.' 'Well, I don't know but it _is_ more natural, for I declare I have hardly set eyes on you since you left our house.' Hiram sighed. 'Well, I suppose I shall not see you again for another five years; so I had best say, 'Good-by.'' They were standing at a point where a lane led off from the main street. 'Which way are you going?' asked Hiram. 'Just a few steps down the lane, and then home.' 'Shall you be detained long?' 'Only a minute. I have just to run in and leave a pattern, if you must know.' 'Then I will walk along with you, if you have no objections. I am out for a little necessary exercise.' 'Objections? why, I shall be delighted.' * * * They sauntered down the lane to the place indicated by Mrs. Williams, where a sign over the door, 'Fashionable Dressmaker,' explained the feminine nature of her errand. Leaving there, the two walked on till they reached a spot where they used to stroll together in old times. 'Now I think of it,' said Mrs. Williams, as she came out of the house and rejoined her companion, 'I forgot to ask you if you are married, because if you are, I need make no apology for marching you by a dressmaker's establishment. 'Don't you know whether I am married or not?' 'Why, how should I? I certainly think you ought to be by this time. Why don't you marry Miss Burns, or Louise Hawkins, or Charlotte, or--or'-- 'Or whom?' asked Hiram. 'Oh, I dare say there are ever so many more, ever so many. So you are not married?' 'Do you think I am, Mary?' * * * As I was saying, the two sauntered on till they reached a spot that had been favorite ground for their sentimental strolls. Both knew well enough, when Hiram proposed to walk down the lane, where they would land, for it was in both their minds. Mrs. Williams fancied it would amuse her and furnish a little variety. She was very sure of herself, and knew 'just what a flirt Hiram was.' Hiram--but never mind what _he_ thought. * * * * *