He'll be worth twice as much at fifty as he is to-day, an' so will you for that matter.

They're fools that say love is for the young, Molly, don't you believe 'em." Sarah, meanwhile, passed slowly down the flagged walk under the gnarled old apple trees in the orchard.

A few heavy-winged insects, awaking from the frost of the night, droned over the piles of crushed winesaps, and she heard the sound as though it came to her across a distance of forty years.

They were not easy years; she was worn by their hardness, crippled by their poverty, embittered by their sorrows.

"I've had a hard life," she thought.