But he came to me and took my hand, and said, 'Why, Martha, have you forgotten Lawrence Newt ?'" She stopped in her story, and leaned back in her chair.

The work fell from her thin fingers, and she wept--soft tears, like a spring rain.
"Well ?" said Amy, after a few moments, and her hand had taken Aunt Martha's, but she let it go again when she saw that it helped her to tell the story if she worked.
"He said he had seen you at the window one day, and he was resolved to find out what brought you into Front Street.

But before he could make up his mind to come, he chanced to see me at the same window, and then he waited no longer." The tone was more natural than Amy had ever heard from Aunt Martha's lips.

She remarked that the severity of her costume was unchanged, except that a little strip of white collar around the throat somewhat alleviated its dense gloom.

Was it Amy's fancy merely that the little line of white was symbolical, and that she saw a more human light in her aunt's eyes and upon her face?
"Well ?" said Amy again, after another pause.
The solemn woman did not immediately answer, but went on sewing, and rocking her body as she did so.