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“Well, I didn’t forgit you, but I thought p’r’aps you might forgit me, an’ I’m goin’ to give ye somethin’. ‘T is for your folks’ sake; I want ye to tell ’em so. I don’t want ye never to part with it, even if it fails to work and you git proud an’ want a new one. It’s been a sight o’ company to me.” She reached up, with a flush on her wrinkled cheeks and tears in her eyes, and took a worn old silver watch from its nail, and handed it, with a last look at its white face and large gold hands, to the startled boy.

“Oh, I can’t take it from ye, Ma’am Stover. I’m just as much obliged to you,” he faltered.

“There, go now, dear, go right along.” said the old woman, turning quickly away. “Be a good boy for your folks’ sake. If so be that I’m here when you come home, you can let me see how well you’ve kep’ it.”

The boy and girl went softly out, leaving the door wide open, as Ma’am Stover liked to have it in summer weather, her windows being small and few. There were neighbors near enough to come and shut it, if a heavy shower blew up. Sometimes the song sparrows and whippoorwills came hopping in about the little bare room.

“I felt kind of’shamed to carry off her watch,” protested Elisha, with a radiant face that belied his honest words.

“Put it on,” said proud little Lydia, trotting alongside; and he hooked the bright steel chain into his buttonhole, and looked down to see how it shone across his waistcoat. None of his friends had so fine a watch; even his grandfather’s was so poor a timekeeper that it was rarely worn except as a decoration on Sundays or at a funeral. They hurried home. Ma’am Stover, lying in her bed, could see the two slight figures nearly all the way on the pasture path; flitting along in their joyful haste.

It was disappointing that the mother and grandfather had so little to say about the watch. In fact, Elisha’s grandfather only said “Pore creatur'” once or twice, and turned away, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. If Ma’am Stover had chosen to give so rich a gift, to know the joy of such generosity, nobody had a right to protest. Yet nobody knew how much the poor wakeful soul would miss the only one of her meagre possessions that seemed alive and companionable in lonely hours. Somebody had said once that there were chairs that went about on wheels, made on purpose for crippled persons like Ma’am Stover; and Elisha’s heart was instantly filled with delight at the remembrance. Perhaps before long, if he could save some money and get ahead, he would buy one of those chairs and send it down from Boston; and a new sense of power filled his honest heart. He had dreamed a great many dreams already of what he meant to do with all his money, when he came home rich and a person of consequence, in summer vacations.

The large leather valise was soon packed, and its owner carried it out to the roadside, and put his last winter’s overcoat and a great new umbrella beside it, so as to be ready when John Sykes came with the wagon. He was more and more anxious to be gone, and felt no sense of his old identification with the home interests. His mother said sadly that he would be gone full soon enough, when he joined his grandfather in accusing Mr. Sykes of keeping them waiting forever and making him miss the boat. There were three rough roundabout miles to be traveled to the steamer landing, and the Sykes horses were known to be slow. But at last the team came nodding in sight over a steep hill in the road.