“Some thinks,” he said, “as her affection was ill-bestowed; some, as her marriage was broken off by death. No one knows how ’tis. She might have married well, a mort of times, ‘but, uncle,’ she says to me, ‘that’s gone forever.’ Cheerful along with me; retired when others is by; fond of going any distance fur to teach a child, or fur to tend a sick person, or fur to do some kindness tow’rds a young girl’s wedding (and she’s done a many, but has never seen one); fondly loving of her uncle; patient; liked by young and old; sowt out by all that has any trouble. That’s Em’ly!”

He drew his hand across his face, and with a half-suppressed sigh looked up from the fire.

“Is Martha with you yet?” I asked.