I knew that she would have selected such a death could she have chosen, for she dreaded the parish.

I think, too, that she would have wished for her old machine to be buried with her, and for its silent shuttle to be beside her in her coffin.

To her it was a companion, and for it her husband died.

Twenty-one years the machine and herself had lived with each other and for each other.

Sharing with each other's toil, if not each other's hopes and fears! Working! working! unceasingly through life--in death and rest they were not divided.
It was a blessed thing that her machine partner required no food, or life would have been even more serious than it was.