It was a little volume of extracts, and one had been marked with a penciled cross:-- "Put your arms around me-- There, like that: I want a little petting At life's setting, For 'tis harder to be brave When feeble age comes creeping, And finds me weeping, Dear ones gone.
Just a little petting At life's setting: For I'm old, alone and tired, And my long life's work is done." The tears rushed to Winona's eyes.

Did Aunt Harriet really feel like that?
Oh, why could she not go and comfort her?
She turned impulsively into the garden.

The slow steps were coming back up the paved walk.

She would have given worlds to walk up to her aunt and fling her arms round her, but the old sense of shyness and reserve held her back.

Miss Beach was passing along the border, her dress brushing the flowers as she went by.