Zebbie to Mothie to keep for him. Some years later she died and was
buried in the dress she mentioned. It was woven at Adeline Carter's,
one of the bitterest enemies of the Gorleys, but the sacrifice of her
pride did her no good because she was long at rest before Zebbie knew.
He had been greatly grieved because no stone marked her grave, only a
tangle of rose-briers. So he bought a stone, and in the night before
Decoration Day he and two of Uncle Buck's grandsons went to the Gorley
burying-ground and raised it to the memory of sweet Pauline. Some of
the Gorleys still live there, so he came home at once, fearing if they
should find out who placed the stone above their sister they would take
vengeance on his poor, frail body.

After he had finished telling me his story, I felt just as I used to
when Grandmother opened the "big chist" to air her wedding clothes and
the dress each of her babies wore when baptized. It seemed almost like
smelling the lavender and rose-leaves, and it was with reverent fingers
that I folded the shirt, the work of love, yellow with age, and laid it
in the box....

Well, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy returned, and early one morning we started
with a wagon and a bulging mess-box for Zebbie's home. We were going a
new and longer route in order to take the wagon. Dandelions spread a
carpet of gold. Larkspur grew waist-high with its long spikes of blue.
The service-bushes and the wild cherries were a mass of white beauty.
Meadowlarks and robins and bluebirds twittered and sang from every
branch, it almost seemed. A sky of tenderest blue bent over us and
fleecy little clouds drifted lazily across.... Soon we came to the
pineries, where we traveled up deep gorges and cañons. The sun shot
arrows of gold through the pines down upon us and we gathered our arms
full of columbines. The little black squirrels barked and chattered