folks. Slow an' gentle, bide your time an' keep your mouth
shut--that's fishin' for ye. Oh, shall I ever get to go again!"

"Sure. But it's time for your chicken broth. I've stewed it down rich
an' tasty, an' there's one good thing 'bout broken legs an' ribs: they
ain't broken stummicks. I'd ruther you'd have forty broken legs than the
dyspepsy, 'cause when I take the pains to cook good victuals, I like to
have 'em et. Now, turn your head a mite. Here's a nice new straw to
drink your broth through, an' a pile more for you to chew on, like
you're always doin'. Seems if a man must always have somethin' in his
mouth, an' if it ain't tobacco it's straws. Spriggs he--"

"Don't give me no 'Spriggs,' to-day; I couldn't stand him. You've told
more things 'at Spriggs done in his thirty years of life than would ha'
kept most men busy till they was a hundered!" cried Moses, petulantly.
"And if Kitty Keehoty, or Monty, ary one, comes 'round, do for pity's
sake send 'em up. Here I lie, ball-an'-chained to a bed and things--Oh,
dear!"

It was Saturday and a busy time for the housekeeper. She had neither
leisure nor inclination to argue with a fretful patient, so went away
and left him to himself. But she found his desire for Katharine's
society an excellent thing. As she had said of Deacon Meakin, "it kep'
her out of mischief" to act as nurse to the injured farmer, and he now
delighted in her. The stories of her old life in the Southern city were
almost like the fairy-tales she retold from printed books; and her
little provincialisms of speech amused him as much as his country
dialect did her. She had soon dropped into the habit of taking his
meal-trays to him and strictly enforced his eating a "right smart" of
all the nourishments provided.

At noon of this Saturday she was perched upon the edge of his cot,
daintily feeding him with bits of food she had cut up, when there was a
clatter of feet upon the stairs, and, breathless as usual, Montgomery
rushed in, announcing, without even a nod to Moses:

"I-it-it's true! Mis' Turner's seen it in her w-w-wood-shed! Widow
Sprigg wasn't m-m-mis-took!"

"Say 'mistaken,' Montgomery Sturtevant, and say it slow," corrected
Katharine, severely, yet immediately turning an inquiring look toward
Uncle Moses. Thus far her efforts to improve her playmate's speech had
been a safe secret between the two. They hoped to keep it such until the
lad could speak a "whole piece" without stammering.

Bu