"There," she said, holding it tenderly, and speaking with quivering
lip and trembling voice. "I picked 'em the very last thing I did, out
in my own little garden patch by the backdoor. Oh, times and times
I've sat and weeded and dug around them, with him sitting on the stoop
and reading out loud to me. I thought all about just how it was while
I was picking these. I didn't stay no longer, and I didn't go back to
the house after that. I couldn't; I just pulled my sun-bonnet over my
eyes, and went across lots to where I was going to get my breakfast"
Ester felt very sorry for the poor homeless, friendless old
woman--felt as though she would have been willing to do a good deal
just then to make her comfortable; yet it must be confessed that that
awkward bunch of faded flowers, arranged without the slightest regard
to colors, looked rather ridiculous; and she felt surprised, and not
a little puzzled, to see actual tears standing in the eyes of her
companion as he handled the bouquet with gentle care.
"Well," he said, after a moment of quiet, "you are not leaving
your best friend after all. Does it comfort your heart very much to
remember that, in all your partings and trials, you are never called
upon to bid Jesus good-by?"
"What a way he has of bringing that subject into every conversation,"
commented Ester, who was now sure that he was a minister.
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