d. "Silvy cl'ared off the table one
night. She heard 'em sing, and they says to him, 'What about pretty
Beck?' and he says 'We must have a little fun, you know, ha! ha!' and
then, 'ha! ha!' behind his sleeve. Now if Silvy could keep it all
together, you'd straighten it out maybe. Silvy can't straighten it out.
Where did she hear so much, I wonder! She hears too much, Silvy does."
She knitted her brows in pitiful perplexity.

"You were talking about the fishermen," said I.

"No," said Silvy, shaking her head; "about Beck. She never says, 'Crazy
Silvy! There she goes! Look at Silvy!' She says, 'Come and see me,
Silvy,' so. So soft spoken. Silvy loves her."

"I love her, too," I said, gently; for Silvy had paused again, and was
knitting her brows in that painful manner, as though the effort to think
gave her actual physical suffering.

"Silvy knows! Silvy knows!" She exclaimed suddenly, her face all smooth
and softly smiling now. "Never--you--trust a neat man," impressively.
"Never you trust 'em--for why? They wasn't made so. God made 'em. God
made 'em to clutter. And there was that Dave Rollin. He was always a'
hangin' things up. He was always foldin' of 'em. He was always a hangin'
'em up in his room. Silvy knows. But there was a piece of writin' got
over behind the bury. And it didn't fall. But it stuck. Silvy knows. She
reads writin'. She reads it over and over. He didn't love Beck any more.
But he's afraid. And he'll give money. 'Oh, go anywhere! Only keep still,
Beck. For Heaven's sake, keep still.' Why, she wouldn't hurt him! Beck
wouldn't hurt him," said Silvy, in a slow tone full of wonder.

"He needn't be afraid. But Silvy won't tell him so. Why not? Oh, she
likes to be amused. Silvy likes to be amused!

"Silvy knows! Silvy knows!" She continued, after another terrible pause.
"She set eyes on you, standin' there. That's the one, she says, and she
says it a long time. That's the queen of Heaven. She wouldn't hurt Silvy,
poor Silvy! She's got a key. So she'll straighten it out maybe. Silvy
can't, she's so tired. When Silvy got up in the mornin', it was early.
Oh, so still! And a bird was flyin' up--up. Silvy couldn't see--so far to
heaven. It made Silvy cry. So strange not to be any tired in the
mornin'."

Silvy made a last painful effort to collect her thoughts, before her face
resumed its habitual, far away, half smiling expression.

Then she said, "Silvy comes up the hill all alone. Not the way them
oth