the world could
be so lovely. I have only been in the country a fortnight at a time in
August, until I came to Marsden, but I love it, I love it! And I think
you're dressed too warm. What made you put on that heavy wool gown and
shawl? And a veil, too. I should think you'd roast, and your face is the
color of boiled lobster," said Katharine, with hapless frankness.

Their talk had been along the way, and their goal was already in sight
through the trees. Poor Susanna had scarcely breath to retort, but
managed to say:

"Ain't it the time o' year to put on thick clothes? an' am I to blame if
the weather don't know its own business?"

Then, for a peace-offering, Katharine handed her companion a beautiful
fern, which the widow tossed aside contemptuously, with:

"Huh! What do I want with a brake? Eunice, she litters the house with
'em bad enough. I ain't a-goin' to add to the muss. Well, here we be,
an' there's the key. I've come here alone time an' time again an' never
felt the creeps a-doin' it afore to-day. But--my suz! I wouldn't ha'
come now without you to keep me comp'ny, not for anything."

"That's flattering! Am I so brave, then?" asked the girl, giving the
housekeeper a sudden little hug.

"Yes, you be. But, my suz! You needn't knock my bunnit off with your
foolishness. Seems if this key's gettin' rusty, or else--can't be the
door's unlocked, can it?"

"I'm sure I don't know. I was never here before." Then, as the door
opened, sniffing a little at the musty odor incident to a tightly closed
apartment: "Whew! It needs airing, anyway. Let's throw up all the sashes
and set the blinds wide, then it will be the sweetest little cottage in
the world."

"Well, you may. And when you've done these down here, you might--you
might go up attic and open that winder, too. It's there I've got my
things stored that I've been layin' out to show you, soon's I could. Me
an' Moses an' Eunice is all a-gettin' old. It's time somebody younger
an' likelier to live longer should know. This walk to-day tells me 'at I
ain't so spry as I used to be. No tellin', no tellin'. We're here now,
an' there some other time, an' life's a shadder, a shadder," ruminated
the widow, sitting down on the door-step, and not anxious, apparently,
to enter the cottage first.

Which fact Katharine was quick to observe and comment upon, with a
laugh: "Oh, you blessed old coward! You're afraid that tramp has shut
himself up in your 'prope'ty,' and you'll