“I know it ain’t Nan and Winnie sure ‘nough,” Hiram answered apologetically, “but these nights make me think of ‘em a terrible lot--and the leaves goin’ so and so in the wind does sound real like Nan’s laugh. Mira, I was out in the garden while you was puttin’ the dishes away and strainin’ the milk, and jest as the moon came out and the wind started up I heard a laugh like Nan’s, and then something danced by me that must have been Winnie. I hurried down the path after it, and there by the poppy bed were the girls, rompin’ jest like children again, ‘most grown girls that they are. As the wind came up more they laughed again, not so soft as they had been doin’, but a real burst of gay laughin’ like they use’ to work themselves up to, and then they ran towards the arbor and peeped out from the honeysuckle, and Nan called, ‘Here, Pa,’ and Winnie sorter sang out, ‘Father, Father,’ in her soft way.” Mrs. Quinsby put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a little shake. Her eyes were frightened, and her voice came quick and stern.
“Hush, Father,” she said. “You are doin’ yoreself an injury. The girls are in heaven, not here, and don’t you let go yore grip on yore mind. Think of me, Hiram--you’ve got me left, and I can’t stand the thought of the lonesomeness if you let your senses go. You and me have been married so many years, Hiram, we could n’t get on without each other. Why, it seems to me the good Lord would surely let me get foolish too--mebbe it ain’t fittin’ for one of my years to say it, but I’d ruther, yes, I’d _ruther_ if it comes down to choosin’ between my senses and you, Hiram!”
The far-away look disappeared from Hiram’s eyes. “I was jest thinkin’, Mira,” he said reassuringly. “It was only that the night was so powerful pretty. But now we won’t talk of the children any more.”
Mrs. Quinsby drew him back to the porch again.
“Don’t think me hard, Father,” she said entreatingly, “but I want you to be sure. Look over there towards the church; you can see the dark heap of trees against the sky in the churchyard, can’t you? There’s where the girls are--there’s where they are.”
“Why, of course, Mira. Though how the Lord could take those pretty young things, and our only two, that had come to us when we was long past hopin’, is more’n I can see.”