ou were
scat, I s'pose."

"Yes, I was."

"Mebbe you was scat worse when you found I warn't dead," chuckled the sick
woman disagreeably.

The girl did not reply. Ellen paused; then seemed to regret her ill
humor.

"Now 'bout a woman----" She halted abruptly.

"Have you any one in mind?" Lucy asked timidly.

"No," returned Ellen emphatically, "I haven't. I hate all the folks in
this town about equally--that is, all except the Howes," she concluded
with significant emphasis.

"Isn't there a nurse in the village?"

"There's Melviny Grey."

"Is she a nurse?" the girl inquired innocently.

"Melviny ain't never been classified," retorted Ellen grimly. "She's
neither fish, flesh nor fowl. She's taught school; laid out the dead; an'
done the Lord only knows what durin' her lifetime. She can turn her hand
to most anything; an' they do say she's mum as an oyster, which is a
virtue out of the common in a woman."

"Suppose I see if we can get her?" suggested Lucy.

"Well," returned Ellen, with a reluctant groan, "I reckon you'll have to.
You can send Tony for her when he gets back, though how he'll find her I
don't know. You might's well hunt for a needle in a haystack as to track
down Melviny. She's liable to be most anywheres tendin' babies or trimmin'
bunnits; an' Tony's such a numskull."

"I guess we can locate her."

"Well, pack him off anyhow, the minute he gets home; an' tell him not to
do any unnecessary travelin', an' to keep where the ground is smooth if
he can. There's no use wearin' out Dolly's new shoes by trapesin' over the
stones in 'em the first thing. Don't be afraid to speak up good and sharp
to Tony. He's used to it an' understands it better. Ain't it the devil's
own luck I should be chained down here like this!"

"Maybe you'll be better before long."

"Don't be a fool," snarled Ellen. "Of course I shan't."

She closed her eyes, and Lucy saw her face first harden into a rebellious
frown, then relax into sleep. As soon as the girl was quite sure she would
not be heard, she went to the window and, drawing aside the curtain, waved
her handkerchief.

Evidently Martin Howe was awaiting the signal, for on receiving it he
sprang up from the chopping block where he was sitting and, returning the
salute, disappeared into the barn from which he presently emerged with his
surrey and bay mare.

Lucy lingered to see him rattle out of the yard and pass over the crest of
the hill. Then with a strange se