And, as did every one else, he spoke of his wife by the name of her former martial companion.
"Be'n a-lookin' fer you, Mr.Harkless," he said in a shaking spindle of a voice, as plaintive as his pale little eyes.

"Mother Wimby, she sent some roses to ye.

Cynthy's fixin' 'em on yer table.

I'm well as ever I am; but her, she's too complaining to come in fer show-day.

This morning, early, we see some the Cross-Roads folks pass the place towards town, an' she sent me in to tell ye.