THE OLD MAID
Delia stood up, loosening the tender arms.
“She doesn’t want to leave go of you, ma’am. Miss Chatty ain’t been in today, and the little thing’s kinder lonesome without her. She don’t play like the other children, somehow. . . Teeny, you look at that lovely chain you’ve got . . . there, there now . . .”
“Goodbye, Clementina,” Delia whispered below her breath. She kissed the pale brown eyes, the curly crown, and dropped her veil on rushing tears. In the stable-yard she dried them on her large embroidered handkerchief, and stood hesitating. Then with a decided step she turned toward home.
The house was as she had left it, except that the children had come in; she heard them romping in the nursery as she went down the passage to her bedroom. Char-
