Doctor Prescott had been called to Granby and would not come until late, if at all; the minister, it was reported, was ill with influenza--she and her mother had agreed that the Squire need not wait for them.
When Lucina saw the throng parting for the new-comers, she assumed involuntarily her pose of sweet and gracious welcome; but when Jerome and his sister stood before her, she started and lost composure.
Lucina remembered Elmira well enough, and had thought she remembered Jerome since last Sunday, when her father, calling to mind their frequent meetings in years back, had chidden her lightly for not speaking to him.
"He has grown and changed so, father," Lucina had said; "I did not mean to be discourteous, and I will remember him another time." Lucina had really considered afterwards, saying nothing to her father or her mother, that the young man was very handsome.

She had sat quite still that Sunday afternoon in the meeting-house, and, instead of listening to the sermon, had searched her memory for old pictures of Jerome.

She had recalled distinctly the tea-drinking in her aunt Camilla's arbor, his refusal of cake, and gift of sassafras-root in the meadow; also his repulse of her childish generosity when she would have given him her little savings for the purchase of shoes.
Old stings of the spirit can often be revived with thought, even when the cause is long passed.

Lucina, sitting there in meeting, felt again the pang of her slighted benevolence.

She was sure that she would remember Jerome at once the next time they met, but for a minute she did not.