The Press., 1894-11-15
presented the appearance of two symmet.

presented the appearance of two symmet- rical mounds of feathers covered with album quilts, pieced by the old ladies in their youth, and curtained below with flowing white valances. The old wom- en had each her own things, her own ways, her own corners and cubbies. She never encroached on her sister s domain. They even at times cooked their own little messes on their own part of the kitchen fire, which they ate each on her own side of the table. Miss Prissy had a blue teapot and Miss Hetty brown one, and there were sepa- rate tea caddies, for Prissy abhorred Oolong, while Hetty dotted on it. Aunt Prissy kept Maltese cat, while Hetty's was yellow, and the tabbies always lay on their own corner of the rug and lap. ped milk out of separate saucers
 Uncle Si indulged the old women in all their ittle whims and fancies, for, as he always said, with a sly wink, "there's nothing like letting folks have their own way if a body's to live in peace and quietness. " But, though the two old sisters were so sturdily individ- ual about trifles, there were singular bonds of sympathy between them, as is apt to be the case with people who have lived together all their lives Aunt Prissy and Aunt Hetty were unit as to the great dignity and distinction of the Bingham family, descended from the colonial governor whose faded DOT trait graced their chimney piece. They were also one on the subject of Sister Nancy's condescension in marrying plain Simon Hapgood, and on the honor they had done said Simon in allowing h1m to feed and shelter them in their old age. They were one, too, in their bodily sensations. for when Prissy felt shooting pains in her right arm Hetty was almost sure to feel them in her left, and when one took to her bed from any cause whatever the other was sure to follow in a few hours.
 Now they were both very low over the death of Uncle Si, for in spite of these pretensions they were tender hearted, simple old creatures Cataracts were coming over both of Prissy's aged eyes, and she had injured herself with weeping. Poor old Hetty's grief had in- creased her deafness to an alarming point. Elsie had just put them to bed like two babies, tucking each one up under her album quilt. They wore nightcaps, with broad starched ruff1es and muslin bows on top, and lying in bed under the tester the bows stood up above the pillow like the ears of a >; withered up faces, now clouded with grief
 The house was quiet save for death watch ticking away in the wall that seemed to thrill every fiber of the wood work. Elsie was half afraid to stay there with that something overhead that was no longer Uncle Si. She opened the door and stepped out to the warm, breathing world and shut it softly be- hind her. The light was low and made a ruddy, golden glow over the fields. The wind was in her hair and lifted the little tresses off her forehead and waved the little locks about her neck. Elsie's face was picturesque rather than beau tiful. The upper teeth pushed out the red lip ever so little, and the nose was slightly retrousse. The forehead was broad and low, and the brown eyes full of loving, ardent light. Her form was light, elegant and agile, equal to much fatigue, made for endurance, but al most perfect in its graceful lines She was country bred and had the elastic step that flies over the ground with a swish of the skirts and the motion of a swallow skimming low. Her tint was brown from much exposure to sun, and slight glow came through the healthy tanned check while the thiSk curly hair was ruff1ed on her head like the breast of bird on windy day. There was something birdlike, too. in the quick glance of her eye.
 Now Elsie skipped to the top of lit tle knoll and looked down the road to- ward the town to watch for Paul Ray nor, who had taken the old gray horse and chaise to summon the Littlefeld undertaken and was to advertise the fu- neral at Bolton, a small hamlet half a mile from the farm. The road stretched away quite lonely and treeless, white with dust and with flock of yellow butterflies chasing up and down over jhe wayside thistles The smoke was going up from Mrs. Deans chimney flown the road among the maple trees, and the fields of growing grass and grain lay in an enchanted silence
 There were beehives on the little hill behind a row of struggling currant and gooseberry bushes and backed by all aged orchard of moss grown trees. Un- ,le Si had been fond of his bees, and Elsie was not afraid of their stings. The old man had taught her to handle a swarm, and they would sometimes light Dn her hands from pure friendliness Now Elsie went close to the hives, and when the bees came buzzing about her she whispered to them as her eyes filled with tears, "Uncle Si is dead" She had brought scrap of black ribbon in her pocket, and she tied it to the little shed under which the hives were rang sd. She felt the bees ought to know what had happened to their best friend, and had they known they, too, would have hung out a little flag of mourning. The filtered farmyard was near, with its old gray barns and sheds strewn with decayed wagons and farm implements. A little lane led from pair of bars up ./~\