victuals and drink than she took her ear-trumpet in one hand and her
work-bag in the other, and went abroad, gossiping about her tenants,
telling what she thought they said, and commenting on their
actions--not maliciously, but simply with a desire to feed the curiosity
of the neighbours.

In order to do this more effectually, Miss Polly returned visits that
had been made to her before the war. There was nothing in her talk to
discredit the Claibornes or to injure their characters. They were
strangers to the community, and there was a natural and perfectly
legitimate curiosity on the part of the town to learn something of their
history. Miss Polly could not satisfy this curiosity, but she could whet
it by leaving at each one's door choice selections from her catalogue of
the sayings and doings of the new-comers--wearing all the time a dress
that Miss Eugenia, the daughter, had made over for her. Miss Polly was a
dumpy little woman, and, with her wen, her ear-trumpet, and her
work-bag, she cut a queer figure as she waddled along.

There was one piece of information she gave out that puzzled the
community no little. According to Miss Polly, the Claibornes had hardly
settled themselves in their new home before Silas Tomlin called on them.
"I can't hear as well as I used to," said Miss Polly--she was deaf as a
door-post--"but I can see as well as anybody; yes indeed, as well as
anybody in the world. And I tell you, Lucy Lumsden"--she was talking to
Gabriel's grandmother--"as soon as old Silas darkened the door, I knew
he was worried. I never saw a grown person so fidgety and nervous,
unless it was Micajah Clemmons, and he's got the rickets, poor man. So I
says to myself, 'I'll watch you,' and watch I did. Well, when Mrs.
Claiborne came into the parlour, she bowed very politely to old Silas,
but I could see that she could hardly keep from laughing in his face;
and I don't blame her, for the way old Silas went on was perfectly
ridiculous. He spit and he spluttered, and sawed the air with his arms,
and buttoned and unbuttoned his coat, and jerked at the bottom of his
wescut till I really thought he'd pull the front out. I wish you could
have seen him, Lucy Lumsden, I do indeed. And when the door was shut on
him, Mrs. Claiborne flung herself down on a sofa, and laughed until she
frightened her daughter. I don't complain about my afflictions as a
general thing, Lucy, but I would have given anything that day if my
hearing had b