"
Galusha understood. "We all have our--ah--doldrums," he observed.
"Yes, seems as if we did. But, there!" briskly picking up her knitting,
"I don't know as it does us much good to sit and talk about 'em. Primmie
had a book around here last week, an old thing, one of Mrs. Southworth's
it was; Primmie borrowed it somewhere. I looked it over one afternoon,
that was as much as I wanted to do with it, and I remember there was
an old woman in it who seemed to spend most of her time dreamin' of
her 'vanished past.' She seemed to worry over that vanished past a good
deal, but, so far as I could see, she didn't gain much by it. She might
have done some plain sewin' and gained more. I can't see that you and I
gain much by sittin' here and frettin' about next winter, Mr. Bangs. I
suppose when winter is really here you will be trottin' around Egypt on
a camel, or some sort of menagerie animal, and I shall be sweepin' and
dustin' and makin' pies. And we both will be too busy to remember we're
lonesome at all. I--Yes, Primmie, what is it?"
Miss Cash's head and shoulders appeared between the door and the jamb.
"Miss Martha," she whispered, hoarsely, "there's somebody come to see
you."
"Come to see me? Who is it; Cap'n Jethro?"
"No'm. It's Raish--I mean Mr. Pulcifer. And," confidentially, "he won't
tell what he's come for, neither."
"And I presume likely you asked him that very thing.
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