not
afraid of Robert Belcher. She had been at the public school with him
when they were children; she had known every circumstance of his
history; she was not dependent on him in any way, and she carried in her
head an honest and fearless tongue. She was an itinerant tailoress, and
having worked, first and last, in nearly every family in the town, she
knew the circumstances of them all, and knew too well the connection of
Robert Belcher with their troubles and reverses. In Mr. Belcher's
present condition of self-complacency and somnolency, she was not a
welcome visitor. Belligerent as he had been toward his own image in the
mirror, he shrank from meeting Keziah Butterworth, for he knew
instinctively that she had come with some burden of complaint.

"Come in," said Mr. Belcher to his servant, "and shut the door behind
you."

The girl came in, shut the door, and waited, leaning against it.

"Go," said her master in a low tone, "and tell Mrs. Belcher that I am
busy, and that she must choke her off. I can't see her to-night. I can't
see her."

The girl retired, and soon afterward Mrs. Belcher came, and reported
that she could do nothing with Miss Butterworth--that Miss Butterworth
was determined to see him before she left the house.

"Bring her in; I'll make short work with her."

As soon as Mrs. Belcher retired, her husband hurried to the mirror,
brushed his hair back fiercely, and then sat down to a pile of papers
that he always kept conveniently upon his library table.

"Come in," said Mr. Belcher, in his blandest tone, when Miss Butterworth
was conducted to his room.

"Ah! Keziah?" said Mr. Belcher, looking up with a smile, as if an
unexpected old friend had come to him.

"My name is Butterworth, and it's got a handle to it,' said that
bumptious lady, quickly.

"Well, but, Keziah, you know we used to--"

"My name is Butterworth, I tell you, and it's got a handle to it."

"Well, Miss Butterworth--happy to see you--hope you are well--take a
chair."

"Humph," exclaimed Miss Butterworth, dropping down upon the edge of a
large chair, whose back felt no pressure from her own during the
interview. The expression of Mr. Belcher's happiness in seeing her, and
his kind suggestion concerning her health, had overspread Miss
Butterworth's countenance with a derisive smile, and though she was
evidently moved to tell him that he lied, she had reasons for
restraining her tongue.

They formed a curious study, as they