"By the way, my dear Mrs. Bartow, I have been to Springfield, and remembering what you said about that woman in Deerwood, I thought I’d run over there and see her just to convince her that she was mistaken in thinking she ever knew me or my father." "Yes, yes. It’s pretty warm in here, isn’t it? Jessie, hadn’t you better go where it is cooler?" said Mrs. Bartow, and Jessie replied: "I am not uncomfortable, and I want to hear about Deerwood. Isn’t it a pleasant old town?" and she turned to Mrs. Reeves, who answered: "Charming! and those Marshalls are such kind, worthy people. But what an odd specimen that Aunt Debby is; and what a wonderful memory she has, though, of course, she remembers some things which never could have been, for instance——" "Jessie, will you bring me my salts, or will you go away, it’s so close in here," came faintly from the distressed lady, who had dropped her work, and was nervously unbuttoning the top of her dress. "Do you feel choked?" asked Mrs. Reeves, while Jessie answered: "I’ll get your salts, grandma; but I don’t wish to go out, unless Mrs. Reeves has something to tell which I must not hear." "Certainly not," returned Mrs. Reeves. "It’s false, I’m sure, just as false as that ridiculous story about the tin peddler and factory girl. I convinced Aunt Debby that she was wrong. It was some other Charlotte Gregory she used to know." "Of course it was; I always said so," and a violent sneeze followed the remark and a too strong inhalation of the salts. "As I was saying," persisted Mrs. Reeves, "Aunt Debby knows everybody who has lived since the flood, and even pretended to have known you, after I told her your name was Lummis, before you were adopted by Mrs. Stanwood." "Oh, delightful," cried Jessie. "Do pray give us the entire family tree, root and all. Was grandma’s father a cobbler, or did he make the _tin things_ yours used to _peddle_?" and the saucy black eyes looked archly at both the ladies. "I don’t know what her father was," said Mrs. Reeves, "but Aunt Debby pretends that Martha Lummis,—Patty, she called her——" "That’s the name in the old black book, grandma, that you said belonged to a friend," interrupted Jessie, and while grandma groaned, Mrs. Reeves continued: "Said that Patty did housework in Hopkinton, and I believe could milk _seventeen_ cows to her one!" "Oh," said Jessie, "how I wish I could milk. It’s such fun. I did try once, but got the tiniest stream, and Walter said I’d dry the cows all up. I wish you could hear _him_ when he first begins. It sounds like hail stones rattling on the _tin pail_. Did yours sound so, grandma, and did you buy the pail of Mr. Gregory?" Mrs. Reeves, by this time, began to think that Jessie might be making fun of her, and smothering her wrath, she proceeded: "I shouldn’t care anything about the housework or the milking, but I’ll confess I _was_ shocked, when she spoke of——"