patched like."

"I wonder," said one of the party, a fine, rosy, jolly-looking girl, "I
wonder if these are not the ones which they say old Scrimp the miser
changed with a scarecrow; and, after the exchange, old Scrimp looked so
smart that people thought he was going to be married."

"Did you ever see any one so lean favored as he is?" asked one of the
company. "Folks say he's so thin that he turns in his hat, but that ere
don't seem likely."

Another of the company now looked up from her work, showing, at the
same time, the nice strips she had been cutting. "I can't believe,"
said she, "all the stories they tell of old Scrimp's miserly ways. They
say that he almost lives upon samples."

"Lives upon samples? What does that mean? I never heard of such a
thing. What kind of victuals is samples?"

"Why, Lois Ward, don't you know what a sample is? Why, he goes to a
shop, and he asks for samples of all the different kinds of sugar, and
so of tea and coffee, and he makes these last a great while, and then
he goes to another, and does the same thing; and, when he thinks they
know his tricks, he walks clear over to another town after samples; and
so he lives upon almost nothing. They say that he keeps all his money
in an old boot hanging up in his cellar, because he thinks no robber
would think to look in an old boot after money."

"They tell me," said another, "that he kills cats for their skins, and
that he goes out o' nights with a long pole to kill skunks, and roasts
them to get their grease, because skunk's grease is mighty powerful for
men and beasts sometimes, and sells for a good deal, 'cause there ain't
many folks willing to undertake the nasty varmints."

"Do you know what Beckey Cross said about him? She said that he was
nothing but skin and grief, and that he never made any shadow. But poor
Scrimp, though he is such a miser, has a heart, and can do a very kind
thing."

"How did you find out that, Miss Dolly?" said the rosy-cheeked girl.
"Did he ever ask you to take care of his heart? if such a thing could
be found. Perhaps it is your fault that poor Scrimp is nothing but skin
and grief."

Miss Dolly drew herself up, and looked in a very dignified manner at
the young village belle. "I never kept company with Mr. Scrimp, and
never should wish to with such a thread paper of a man as him; but I
stick to it, he has a heart, and I'll tell you how I diskivered it. You
know poor Mrs. Fowler, whose house is just o