“The cane, Josie, you take that, an’ I’ll have the spoon from the World’s Fair. Ma was proud of Uncle George, wasn’t she, Josie? She’d want us to keep the cane, an’ the silk hat in the grand leather case, an’ the white gloves, an’ the box with the cigars in it.”

They went into the parlour, where Ma lay in her coffin.

“Them earrings are mine, now, ain’t they, Josie? You got the beads an’ locket. We’ll find something for Mis’ Lowell.”

Ben heard them. “Hadn’t I better take the pretty over to Mis’ Lowell? She’s always been so good to Ma.”

Aggie and Josie looked at their father and at each other.

“Yes, Pa. We’ll get it.”

They went back into Ma’s room. They looked around, at the top of the bureau, at the shelf over the door. They opened the door of Ma’s closet, and closed it again. They saw the jug where they had left it on the patch-quilt.

“Ma wouldn’t want us to give away that patch-quilt of her’n, would she, Josie?”

“No, Aggie. That’ll be good on our bed, cold nights. We’ll give Pa the brown one. It’ll be warmer.”

Aggie took a ball of string, wound smooth and hard—pink and green string from the drug-store—tied end to end, and Ma’s jack-knife from the pocket hanging on the closet door.

“You get a sheet of paper, Josie, from the bottom of one of them drawers.”

They wrapped up the jug carefully, and went downstairs.

“Here it is, Pa. We did it up nice. Be careful now, an’ don’t you undo it.”

Ben was pleased. It looked like a Christmas present. Mrs. Lowell had always been good to Ma. He took the South road to the Lowell farm. He saw a woman near the red barn. He felt of the parcel, turned it about. His fingers followed the outlines. He wanted to undo it, but he was afraid he would not be able to do it up so nice. The woman in the barnyard was Mrs. Lowell, feeding her chickens.

Ben worked open a corner of the paper, and inserted his finger, without disturbing the string.

“Mis’ Lowell should ’a’ had something nicer. It ain’t good enough to be given for Ma.”

He started back for home. “I ain’t goin’ to take that jug to her.”

He took a few steps, then straightened up and turned about. His heart beat fast; there was a light in his eyes. He was young again, one of a big crowd, watching the girls’ race at the Fair. His Sadie was leading them all. Everybody cheered for her. She ran right into his arms, and they gave her the first prize—the very jug he had in his hands.

He took the jug out of its wrappings, and hurried across the farmyard to Mrs. Lowell.

“I’m bringin’ you one of Ma’s pretties—this here little jug with the cat-tail paintin’ on it—she won it at the Fair. She was Sadie Chambers then, an’ she beat all the other girls, an’—Oh, you ought’er seen how she ran!”