Thus, in the baskets, and quivering in the hopper of the mill, she saw specimens of mixed dates, including the mellow countenances of streaked-jacks, codlins, costards, stubbards, ratheripes, and other well-known friends of her ravenous youth.
Grace watched the head-man with interest.

The slightest sigh escaped her.

Perhaps she thought of the day--not so far distant--when that friend of her childhood had met her by her father's arrangement in this same town, warm with hope, though diffident, and trusting in a promise rather implied than given.

Or she might have thought of days earlier yet--days of childhood--when her mouth was somewhat more ready to receive a kiss from his than was his to bestow one.

However, all that was over.