ghed silently, and rocked from side to side in her
merriment.

"Ain't it funny?" she said. "I mostly lets them run the length of
their tether but sometimes I has to pull them up, and then I does it
with a jerk. Now, you can take your time about dressing, my dears, and
I'll go down and keep them in order, the mean scalawags."

When we descended the stairs we found a smoking-hot breakfast on the
table. Mr. Chapman was nowhere to be seen, and Mrs. Chapman was
cutting bread with a sulky air. Mrs. Matilda Pitman was sitting in an
armchair, knitting. She still wore her bonnet and her triumphant
expression. "Set right in, dears, and make a good breakfast," she
said.

"We are not hungry," said Kate, almost pleadingly. "I don't think we
can eat anything. And it's time we were on the trail. Please excuse us
and let us go on."

Mrs. Matilda Pitman shook a knitting needle playfully at Kate. "Sit
down and take your breakfast," she commanded. "Mrs. Matilda Pitman
commands you. Everybody obeys Mrs. Matilda Pitman--even Robert and
Amelia. You must obey her too."

We did obey her. We sat down and, such was the influence of her
mesmeric eyes, we ate a tolerable breakfast. The obedient Amelia never
spoke; Mrs. Matilda Pitman did not speak either, but she knitted
furiously and chuckled. When we had finished Mrs. Matilda Pitman
rolled up her knitting. "Now, you can go if you want to," she said,
"but you don't have to go. You can stay here as long as you like, and
I'll make them cook your meals for you."

I never saw Kate so thoroughly cowed.

"Thank you," she said faintly. "You are very kind, but we must go."

"Well, then," said Mrs. Matilda Pitman, throwing open the door, "your
team is ready for you. I made Robert catch your ponies and harness
them. And I made him fix that broken tongue properly. I enjoy making
Robert do things. It's almost the only sport I have left. I'm eighty
and most things have lost their flavour, except bossing Robert."

Our democrat and ponies were outside the door, but Robert was nowhere
to be seen; in fact, we never saw him again.

"I do wish," said Kate, plucking up what little spirit she had left,
"that you would let us--ah--uh"--Kate quailed before Mrs. Matilda
Pitman's eye--"recompense you for our entertainment."

"Mrs. Matilda Pitman said before--and meant it--that she doesn't take
pay for entertaining strangers, nor let other people where she lives
do it, much as their meanness would like to do