'She might have been older.'
'I'm sure she must have been. Why, only think how old she looked.
You and I seemed but boys to her.'
'She did look old,' rejoined David. 'You're right. She did look
old.'
'Call to mind how old she looked for many a long, long year, and
say if she could be but seventy-nine at last--only our age,' said
the sexton.
'Five year older at the very least!' cried the other.
'Five!' retorted the sexton. 'Ten. Good eighty-nine. I call to
mind the time her daughter died. She was eighty-nine if she was a
day, and tries to pass upon us now, for ten year younger. Oh!
human vanity!'
The other old man was not behindhand with some moral reflections on
this fruitful theme, and both adduced a mass of evidence, of such
weight as to render it doubtful--not whether the deceased was of
the age suggested, but whether she had not almost reached the
patriarchal term of a hundred. When they had settled this question
to their mutual satisfaction, the sexton, with his friend's
assistance, rose to go.
'It's chilly, sitting here, and I must be careful--till the
summer,' he said, as he prepared to limp away.
Pages:
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744