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If Miss Alice had not nuss you, you die."
Alice stepped into the cabin taking with her the basket the little
negro had borne, and placing its contents away, came out and handing it
to Rose, bid her run home. "I am coming," she said as she adjusted her
bonnet-strings, "the bugaboos won't catch you."
"Yes, Uncle Toney, I am very grateful to Miss Alice. I shall never
forget her."
How often that word is thoughtlessly spoken? Never to forget, is a long
time to remember. Our lives are a constant change: the present drives
out the past, and one memory usurps the place of another. Yet there are
some memories which are always green. These fasten themselves upon us
in agony. The pleasant are evanescent and pass away as a smile, but the
bitter live in sighs, recurring eternally.
Both were silent, both were thoughtful. "Good-by, Uncle Toney," said
Alice.
"May I join you in your walk home, miss?" There was something in the
tone of this request, which caused Alice to look up into his face and
pause a moment before replying, when she said, very timidly, "If you
please, sir.


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