ought to stay by. I didn't. I told him from
the time we went to school together that I was bound to get to New York,
an' that sort of fired him up, an' we've talked hours to time about what
it was like, an' what we'd do if we ever got there. My folks were set
against the notion, an' so were his, but he went after a while, with
some man that was up in the summer an' that gave him a place in a store.
I couldn't go on account of father's dying sudden an' mother's holdin'
on harder'n ever to me, but she was took within the year, an' there I
was, free enough, an' not a soul in the world but Leander's folks that
seemed to think much one way or another how I was likely to come out.

"There was a mortgage on the farm, an' Dr. Grayson foreclosed an' had
most of the money for his bill; an' when things were all settled I had
forty dollars in cash an' the old furniture. Leander's folks was
dreadful short for things, for they'd been burned out once, an' so I
just turned everything over to them but some small things I could pack
in my trunk, mother's teaspoons an' such, an' walked down to the village
an' took the stage for Portsmouth. I wasn't scared. I didn't care nor
think how I looked. It was heaven to think I was on the way to folks an'
the things folks do. I ain't given to crying, but that day I sat back in
the stage an' cried just for joy to think I was going to have something
different.

"All this time I hadn't thought much what I'd do. Forty dollars seemed a
big lot, enough for weeks ahead. I'd done most everything about a house,
an' I could make everything I wore. I had only to look at a pattern an'
I could go home an cut out one like it. The dress I had on was cheap
stuff, but when I looked at other folks's I saw it wasn't so much out o'
the way. So I said, most likely some dressmaker would take me, an' I'd
try my luck that way. This was before I got to Boston, an' I went round
there all the afternoon before it was time to take the train, for the
conductor told me just what to do, an' I hadn't a mite of trouble. I
never do going to a strange place. I was half a mind to stay in Boston
when I saw the Common an' the crowds of folks. I sat still there an'
just looked at 'em, an' cried again for joy to think I'd got where there
were so many. 'But there'll be more in New York,' I said, 'an' there'll
be sure to be plenty ready to do a good turn.' I could have hugged 'em
all. I didn't think then the time would ever come that I'd h