You are welcome to proclaim yourself ‘Alcide’ if you will. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. ” She whispered. ” “You, then,” he said, “are ‘Alcide. I imagine that even you must realize that this is of some importance. " She smiled, and returned to the spinsters. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked.
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