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The Golden Thimble(continued) Finally, Master Edwards took something out of his pocket
and laid it on the palm of his hand. "I was wondering," he
said, "if any of you has ever seen the mate to this?" I looked,
and there was my golden thimble eardrop! "Why, yes," I exclaimed joyfully. "How
lucky that you have found it. And I thank you most sincerely for returning
it to me." I held out my hand, but Master Edwards kept the eardrop
in his own hand. "Mistress," he said. "I wonder. Do you
perhaps have this eardrop's mate?" I looked at him for a moment and then rushed to the table
where the girls had put all their borrowed finery. But my eardrop was
no longer there! I shook my head and, once again, fought to hold back
my tears. "It was here this morning," I said. "It is
part of a pair that my dear husband gave to me." I feared that
I could not claim my lost eardrop if I had no proof that it really belonged
to me. I turned back to the girls. "Daughters," I said,
"have you seen my gold-thimble eardrop?" Without a word Ella walked toward Maurice and Master Edwards. Reaching into a pocket of her apron, she withdrew my gold eardrop. "Here it is," I said. "Thank you, my dear." I reached out my hand, but instead of receiving my prized
eardrops, Master Edwards gave the lost one to Ella. At the same time,
Maurice turned to her with a large smile on his face. "I should have known at once, my darling," he
exclaimed. "What a clever girl you are, to give me this wonderful
hint of how to find you! And now I know that you, indeed, are the woman
of my dreams." I was not sure how sneaking an eardrop into a man's pocket
proved Ella's cleverness, but no one asked my advice. The two young
lovers just looked at each other as if there were no one else in the
room. Olga, dear girl, smiled at the happy ending as if she were the
heroine of the story. Lucy did her best to wear a pleasant expression,
but I knew how hard it was for her. Master Edwards turned to me and started to talk of dates
and dowries and other wedding plans until I felt my head spin. I listened,
trying to follow all that he said, but part of my mind kept wondering
over and over: where were my gold-thimble eardrops? Eventually the two men got up to leave, Master Edwards
bowing and nodding over and over to Olga, Lucy and me. Maurice just
stood for a while, looking into Ella's eyes as she looked into his.
He held out his hand, and she placed the two eardrops into his hand.
"I will keep these with me always," Maurice said, "as
a small token of our great love. But I will return tomorrow with a more
precious gift for you. And soon you will be my bride. We will keep these
small baubles as a remembrance of how we met." Ella smiled and bowed her head gracefully. "But,"
I said, "those eardrops are mine. They are a symbol of my husband's
love for me." "And of my father's for me," said Ella. "For
it was my father who gave them to you." I started to protest, but then I noticed the strange looks,
the slight frowns, that Maurice and Master Edwards were directing at
me. Sure enough, the eardrops had been a gift from Ella's own father,
and I had meant to leave them for her. True enough, I had other gifts
from John — many worth more money. But nothing else had those simple
old memories attached to them. I opened my mouth to speak, but Master
Edwards's frown just seemed to deepen. Well, I thought, those eardrops
would be my gift to Ella, along with her bridal outfit and trousseau. The weeks rushed by after that. Olga, Lucy and I offered
to help Ella pack up her things, but she seemed to care about few of
her possessions. Once again, as before the great dance, I was overwhelmed
with work to do. Day after day, women came in to order new dresses and
shawls for the wedding. Olga, Lucy and I had so much work to do that
the days just flew by. At night I worked on trousseau garments for Ella,
sewing each piece lovingly. I thought often of John during those evenings.
I felt that I was fulfilling one last promise to him. But when the flurry of activity died down, when I finally
looked up from the final stitch of the final garment, I realized that
Ella had gone. I went up to her attic room one evening, my arms filled
with lacy garments. Ella was not there. She had taken her cloak and
boots and a few other things. Scattered in untidy piles across the floor,
I found dresses and shawls, bonnets and scarves — all the clothes
that I had made her over the years. I called for Olga and Lucy to join
me. We divided up the best clothing, and I used the rest as strips in
new patchwork dresses, aprons and quilts for the three of us. Ella had
even left the ball gown I had sewn so painstakingly for her. None of
us could bear to wear it, but the material was still good and strong.
I made some alterations, changed some of the ribbons, and eventually
sold it to a woman who was passing through town. Ella had left without a word of goodbye, without a last
hug or any token of my real love for her. With all the extra work and
activity in our house, I had not realized until that moment that she
did not even ask me to sew her wedding dress. And though we listened
every day for knocks on the door, we never did get invited to the big
wedding. As my old grandmother used to say, life is a long and
winding road, so you'd best just keep walking. And so I did. I kept
sewing and mending, weaving and knitting until my eyes dimmed and my
fingers ached constantly. By then both Olga and Lucy were settled down
and married, with their own children. They each live in a house with
a small room that they have made over for me. I spend a few months with
Olga, then a few with Lucy and back again. I taught their daughters
to sew, and I am glad I did. No one knows what will happen in this world,
and it is best to be prepared. I have heard that Ella also has a daughter.
I suppose I should send my gold thimble, the first gift that John ever
gave me, to my little step-granddaughter. But so far I have never found
the right occasion. 
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