Wonderful that we should be so much alike!" "Aunt," said the young man explosively, "can we sit up tonight ?" Tant Sannie hung her head and half closed her eyes; but finding that her little wiles were thrown away, the young man staring fixedly at his hat, she simpered, "Yes," and went away to fetch candles.
In the dining room Em worked at her machine, and Gregory sat close beside her, his great blue eyes turned to the window where Lyndall leaned out talking to Waldo.
Tant Sannie took two candles out of the cupboard and held them up triumphantly, winking all round the room.
"He's asked for them," she said.
"Does he want them for his horse's rubbed back ?" asked Gregory, new to up-country life.
"No," said Tant Sannie, indignantly; "we're going to sit up!" and she walked off in triumph with the candles.
Nevertheless, when all the rest of the house had retired, when the long candle was lighted, when the coffee-kettle was filled, when she sat in the elbow-chair, with her lover on a chair close beside her, and when the vigil of the night was fairly begun, she began to find it wearisome.
The young man looked chilly, and said nothing.
"Won't you put your feet on my stove ?" said Tant Sannie.
"No thank you, aunt," said the young man, and both lapsed into silence.
At last Tant Sannie, afraid of going to sleep, tapped a strong cup of coffee for herself and handed another to her lover.

This visibly revived both.
"How long were you married, cousin ?" "Ten months, aunt." "How old was your baby ?" "Three days when it died." "It's very hard when we must give our husbands and wives to the Lord," said Tant Sannie.
"Very," said the young man; "but it's the Lord's will." "Yes," said Tant Sannie, and sighed.
"She was such a good wife, aunt: I've known her break a churn-stick over a maid's head for only letting dust come on a milk cloth." Tant Sannie felt a twinge of jealousy.

She had never broken a churn-stick on a maid's head.
"I hope your wife made a good end," she said.
"Oh, beautiful, aunt: she said up a psalm and two hymns and a half before she died." "Did she leave any messages ?" asked Tant Sannie.
"No," said the young man; "but the night before she died I was lying at the foot of her bed; I felt her foot kick me.
"'Piet,' she said.
"'Annie, my heart,' said I.
"'My little baby that died yesterday has been here, and it stood over the wagon-box,' she said.
"'What did it say ?' I asked.
"'It said that if I died you must marry a fat woman.' "'I will,' I said, and I went to sleep again.

Presently she woke me.
"'The little baby has been here again, and it says you must marry a woman over thirty, and who's had two husbands.' "I didn't go to sleep after that for a long time, aunt; but when I did she woke me.
"'The baby has been here again,' she said, 'and it says you mustn't marry a woman with a mole.' I told her I wouldn't; and the next day she died." "That was a vision from the Redeemer," said Tant Sannie.
The young man nodded his head mournfully.

He thought of a younger sister of his wife's who was not fat, and who had a mole, and of whom his wife had always been jealous, and he wished the little baby had liked better staying in heaven than coming and standing over the wagon-chest.
"I suppose that's why you came to me," said Tant Sannie.
"Yes, aunt.