e-haired old
man, leaning upon two canes. He wanted to see who had come. I told my
errand. He asked me into the kitchen. As I entered, I looked slyly
about, to see what I could see. But there was only a short old woman.
She was running candles. She looked straight in my face. The old man
stooped down and shouted in her ear,--

"He's come arter Peggy! where is she?"

"Denno," said she, toddling along to the window, and looking up and down
the road. "Denno. Mile off, mebbe. Master critter to be on the go!"

"There she is!" cried Mr. Barrows, from a back-window,--"in the parster,
slidin' down-hill on her jumper. Guess you'll have to go look her, young
man; the old woman's poorly, an' so be I."

But the old woman told me to sit up to the fire and warm my feet; said
she would hang out a cloth, and Peggy would be in directly. I would have
gone very willingly; for, after expecting to be introduced to Miss
Margaret Holden, being sent out after Peggy was just nothing.

'Twas but a little while before we heard the jumper rattling along, and
then a stamping in the porch. Then we heard her hand upon the latch.

"She's a little young thing," said the old man, almost in a whisper;
"but she's knowin'.--Peggy," he continued, as she entered, "you'm sent
for."

That was the first time I ever saw Margaret. She had on some little
child's hood, and an old josey-coat, which covered her all over. The
hood was red, and ruffled about the border, which made her face look
like a little girl's.

"To go to Mr. Wilbur's?" she asked, looking towards me.

I rose to explain, and handed the letter.

She threw off her things, opened it, and began reading. When I saw the
smile spreading over her face, I knew Mr. Nathaniel had been writing
some of his nonsense.

"Perhaps," said I, as she was folding it up, "you don't know Mr.
Nathaniel. He says anything. I don't know what he's been writing, but"--

"Oh, nothing bad," said she, laughing. "He only says you are a nice
young man."

"Ah!" I replied. "Well, he does sometimes speak the truth."

Then we both laughed, and, for new acquaintances, seemed on pretty good
terms.

There was something about her face which made me think of the little
Margaret who had moved away. She had the same pretty laugh, the same
innocent-looking mouth,--only the child Margaret was not so
fair-complexioned. Her figure, and the way of carrying her head,
reminded me of the West-India girls, as I had seen them riding o