“Why, Dismal, my dear!” exclaimed she, when she could successfully get rid of a queer little choke in her voice, “Why Dismal, is that really you? I was just thinking about you and wondering whether I would go to see you. But this is a hundred times better! Sit down here in the porch and let me look at you. It really is you, isn’t it, Dismal?”

Mrs. Dismal Forebodings came forward a little hesitatingly, then went up to her old friend and did what she had never done since they were girls together at school, put her arms around her and kissed her. “Yes, it is I, myself,” said she with a shy little laugh. “I expect you are wondering whatever I am doing, walking about in a shawl like this, Valiant.”

“It is simply beautiful!” said Mrs. Valiant in a tone of ecstasy. “I never saw anything lovelier. And it suits you perfectly, Dismal dear. You are so tall and dignified when you are not mooning about in a drab dress and your widow’s weeds. I am thankful to see that you are not wearing them any longer. But tell me, Dismal, where did you get that exquisite shawl?”

“The Shepherd gave it to me,” said Mrs. Dismal simply, “and told me that it was his wish that I wear it always. Otherwise, my dear Valiant, I would naturally have folded such a beautiful garment away in tissue paper as a priceless heirloom only to be worn on feast days and very special occasions, if then. But he said so firmly that it was his wish that I should wear it every day (unsuitable for a poor widow as it seems) that I do not like to disregard his request. You see, Valiant, he has done so much for me that I cannot refuse to do what he asks.