s' sake! deary me! throwed her!"

"Yes," said Cricket, with the air of confessing to a murder, as she set
down the blanc-mange. "I _don't_ see how I could have done it. I just
twisted my foot around her ankle. I was just as much surprised as if
the--the church had tumbled over. It was a week ago Monday."

"Jest to think on 't! I never heerd the beat o' that! An' nobody hain't
told me of it, nuther. 'Lizy was here yestiddy, and she hain't never
let on a word."

"I guess grandma told her not to," said Cricket, blushing again.

"Let me see," said the old woman, suddenly, bending forward and peering
into her face. "Which one be you? You ain't Miss Edny. Be you Miss
Eunice?"

"I'm Cricket," said that young lady, quite at her ease now. "Most
probably you've never heard of me before. We're all grandma's
grandchildren, and are spending the summer here. At least, we're all
grandchildren but Hilda. She's visiting me. She is going home to-morrow,
and I'm awfully sorry."

Marm Plunkett paid no attention to the end of this speech. She was
bending eagerly forward, looking at Cricket through her big steel-bowed
glasses.

"Have--I--seen--Miss--Cricket! Have--I--seen--her!" came slowly from the
old woman's lips, as she clasped her hands over her staff, still gazing
at her as if she were a rare, wild animal. Cricket felt somewhat
disconcerted.

"Yes, I'm Cricket," she repeated, uncomfortably, feeling guilty of
something. She felt as if she were confessing to being an alligator,
for instance.

Mrs. Maxwell had often amused the old woman by tales of her
grandchildren, and as Cricket always had more accidents and disasters
than all the rest of the family put together, she had naturally figured
largely in her grandmother's stories.

"Have--I--seen--Miss--Cricket!" repeated the old woman, stretching out
her hand as if she wanted to touch her to make sure she was flesh and
blood. Cricket went towards her, rather reluctantly. Marm Plunkett laid
her shaking claws on her hands, felt of her arms, and even laid the
point of her withered finger in the dimple of the round, pink cheek.
Cricket winced. She felt as if she were a chicken, which the cook was
trying, to see if it were tender.

"I--I--didn't know you knew me," she said, trying to be polite and not
pull away.

"I--_have_--seen--Miss--Cricket," declared Marm Plunkett, triumphantly,
at last. "Who'd 'a' thought it! She's come to see me. Won't Cindy be
glad an' proud to hear of