"
"Flowers--and velvet--and honey--and myrrh?"
"Yes," answered Miss Susan with gravity. "Perhaps it's jest as well
some things ain't to be had at the shops."
The schoolmaster took up his lamp again and walked to the door.
"We never can tell," he said. "It may be people want things awfully
without knowing it. And suppose they do laugh! They'd better laugh than
cry. _I_ should give all I could. Good-night."
Miss Susan banked up the fire and set her rising of dough on the
hearth, after a discriminating peep to see whether it was getting on
too fast. After that, she covered her plants by the window and blew out
the light, so that the moon should have its way. She lingered for a
moment, looking out into a glittering world. Not a breath stirred. The
visible universe lay asleep, and only beauty waked. She was aching with
a tumultuous emotion--the sense that life might be very fair and
shining, if we only dared to shape it as it seems to us in dreams. The
loveliness and repose of the earth appealed to her like a challenge;
they alone made it seem possible for her also to dare.
Next morning, she rose earlier than usual, while the schoolmaster was
still fast bound in sleep. She stayed only to start her kitchen fire,
and then stood motionless a moment for a last decision.
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