amused the creature entirely, and she presently
concluded that really I could not be there then, otherwise she would
never have asked her to lie in the house; so she grew cold again
presently as to her lodging there, and said, No, since it was so, she
would go back that afternoon, but she would come again in two or three
days, and search that and all the towns round in an effectual manner, if
she stayed a week or two to do it; for, in short, if I was in England or
Holland she would find me.

"In truth," says the Quaker, "thou wilt make me very hurtful to thee,
then." "Why so?" says she, "Because wherever I go, thou wilt put thyself
to great expense, and the country to a great deal of unnecessary
trouble." "Not unnecessary," says she. "Yes, truly," says the Quaker;
"it must be unnecessary, because it will be to no purpose. I think I
must abide in my own house to save thee that charge and trouble."

She said little to that, except that, she said, she would give her as
little trouble as possible; but she was afraid she should sometimes be
uneasy to her, which she hoped she would excuse. My Quaker told her she
would much rather excuse her if she would forbear; for that if she would
believe her, she would assure her she should never get any intelligence
of me by her.

That set her into tears again; but after a while, recovering herself,
she told her perhaps she might be mistaken; and she (the Quaker) should
watch herself very narrowly, or she might one time or other get some
intelligence from her, whether she would or no; and she was satisfied
she had gained some of her by this journey, for that if I was not in the
house, I was not far off; and if I did not remove very quickly, she
would find me out. "Very well," says my Quaker; "then if the lady is not
willing to see thee, thou givest me notice to tell her, that she may get
out of thy way."

She flew out in a rage at that, and told my friend that if she did, a
curse would follow her, and her children after her, and denounced such
horrid things upon her as frighted the poor tender-hearted Quaker
strangely, and put her more out of temper than ever I saw her before; so
that she resolved to go home the next morning, and I, that was ten times
more uneasy than she, resolved to follow her, and go to London too;
which, however, upon second thoughts, I did not, but took effectual
measures not to be seen or owned if she came any more; but I heard no
more of her for some time.