nkful to have you with
her. Is she one of Mrs. Winn's daughters?"

"Oh, no, they ain't able; it's Sister Wayland's darter Isabella, that
married the overseer of the gre't carriage-shop. I ain't seen her
since just after she was married; but I turned to her first because I
knew she was best able to have me, and then I can see just how the
other girls is situated and make me some kind of a plot. I wrote to
Isabella, though she _is_ ambitious, and said 't was so I'd got to ask
to come an' make her a visit, an' she wrote back she would be glad to
have me; but she didn't write right off, and her letter was scented up
dreadful strong with some sort o' essence, and I don't feel heartened
about no great of a welcome. But there, I've got eyes, an' I can see
_how_ 't is when I git _where_ 't is. Sister Winn's gals ain't
married, an' they've always boarded, an' worked in the shop on
trimmin's. Isabella' s well off; she had some means from her father's
sister. I thought it all over by night an' day, an' I recalled that
our folks kept Sister Wayland's folks all one winter, when he'd failed
up and got into trouble. I'm reckonin' on sendin' over to-night an'
gittin' the Winn gals to come and see me and advise. Perhaps some on
'em may know of somebody that'll take me for what help I can give
about house, or some clever folks that have been lookin' for a smart
cat, any ways; no, I don't know's I could let her go to strangers."

"There was two or three o' the folks round home that acted real
warm-hearted towards me, an' urged me to come an' winter with 'em,"
continued the exile; "an' this mornin' I wished I'd agreed to, 't was
so hard to break away. But now it's done I feel more 'n ever it's
best. I couldn't bear to live right in sight o' the old place, and
come spring I shouldn't 'prove of nothing Is'iah ondertakes to do with
the land. Oh, dear sakes! now it comes hard with me not to have had no
child'n. When I was young an' workin' hard and into everything, I felt
kind of free an' superior to them that was so blessed, an' their
houses cluttered up from mornin' till night, but I tell ye it comes
home to me now. I'd be most willin' to own to even Is'iah, mean's he
is; but I tell ye I'd took it out of him 'fore he was a grown man, if
there 'd be'n any virtue in cow-hidin' of him. Folks don't look like
wild creator's for nothin'. Is'iah's got fox blood in him, an'
p'r'haps 't is his misfortune. His own mother always favored the looks
of