u speak. Nothin' cures my complaint, but a new remedy takes holt
clever sometimes, an' eases me for a spell." And she gave a plaintive
sigh, and began to knit again.

Mrs. Downs rose and pushed the supper-table to the wall and drew her
chair nearer to the stove. The April nights were chilly.

"The folks is late comin' after me," said Mrs. Forder, ostentatiously.
"I may's well confess that I told 'em if they was late with the work
they might let go o' fetchin' o' me an' I'd walk home in the mornin';
take it easy when I was fresh. Course I mean ef 't wouldn't put you
out: I knowed you was all alone, an' I kind o' wanted a change."

"Them words was in my mind to utter while we was to table," avowed
Mrs. Downs, hospitably. "I ain't reelly afeared, but 't is sort o'
creepy fastenin' up an' goin' to bed alone. Nobody can't help
hearkin', an' every common noise starts you. I never used to give
nothin' a thought till the Knowleses was robbed, though."

"'T was mysterious, I do maintain," acknowledged Mrs. Forder. "Comes
over me sometimes p'raps 't wasn't Enoch; he'd 'a' branched out more
in course o' time. I'm waitin' to see if he does extry well to sea
'fore I let my mind come to bear on his bein' clean handed."

"Plenty thought 't was the ole Cap'n come back for it an' sperited it
away. Enough said that 't wasn't no honest gains; most on't was
prize-money o' slave ships, an' all kinds o' devil's gold was mixed
in. I s'pose you've heard that said?"

"Time an' again," responded Mrs. Forder; "an' the worst on't was
simple old Pappy Flanders went an' told the Knowles gals themselves
that folks thought the ole Cap'n come back an' got it, and Hannah done
wrong to cuss Enoch Holt an' his ginerations after him the way she
done."

"I think it took holt on her ter'ble after all she'd gone through,"
said Mrs. Downs, compassionately. "He ain't near so simple as he is
ugly, Pappy Flanders ain't. I've seen him set here an' read the paper
sober's anybody when I've been goin' about my mornin's work in the
shed-room, an' when I'd come in to look about he'd twist it with his
hands an' roll his eyes an' begin to git off some o' his gable. I
think them wander-in' cheap-wits likes the fun on't an' 'scapes stiddy
work, an' gits the rovin' habit so fixed, it sp'iles 'em."

"My gran'ther was to the South Seas in his young days," related
Mrs. Forder, impressively, "an' he said cussin' was common there. I
mean sober spitin' with a cuss. He se