“She seems more opset than anyone’d given her credit fur,” Alvira answered, sententiously. Melissa interposed to expand this comment, and rest her arms: “Yes, she _seems_ opset enough. P’raps she _is_. But then agin, p’raps ef you was young ’n’ good lookin’, with blew eyes ’n’ a lot o’ yalleh hair thet was all yer own, ’n’ you hed a hus-ban’ twice as old as you was, ’n’ he sh’d fall daown ’n’ break his neck, ’n’ leave you a rich young widder, p’raps you’d cry yer eyes aout--when people was lookin’--speshly if thet husban’ o’ yours left a likely young brother who was soft on yeh. When you git as old ’s I be, S’manthy, you’ll learn ther’s a good deal in appear’nces.” “When she gits as old as you air,” broke in Alvira, sharply, “I hope she’ll learn better ’n’ to blab everythin’ thet comes into her head! You’ll let that cream break, ef yeh don’t look aout!” “I don’t b’lieve its within an ’aour o’ comin’” said Melissa, wearily resuming her task. “No, but--reelly,” began Samantha, “_is_ Seth----?” “Never you mind whether Seth is or whether he isn’t,” answered Alvira. “A young tadpole of a girl like you’s got no business pryin’ ’raoun’ older folks’ affairs. You better go home! M’tildy may need yeh. Yer sister’s got her work to dew, ’n’ so ’ve I.” This plain intimation produced no effect upon Samantha. She continued to warm her hands, which were already the hue of a red apple with the heat, and remarked: “No, she don’ want me. Annie said I might stay ’s long ’s I wanted to. She said she wanted to be left alone. She’s abaout the wuss broke up girl _I_ ever sot eyes on. You ought to see the way _she_ takes on, though. I bet the widder ain’t a succumstance to her. Ef you’d seen what _I_ saw, ’n’ heern what _I_ heerd this afternoon, I guess you’d think so tew.” The girl spoke calmly, with a satisfied conviction that nobody would tell her to go home again in a hurry. “What was it?” came simultaneously from the kneading-board and the churn. “Oh, I dunnao,--I ain’t much of a han’ to blab everythin’. A young tadpole of a girl like me, yeh knaow, ain’t got no business----” “Come naow! _Don’t_ be a _fool_, S’manthy! Ef you’ve got anythin’ to say, spit it aout!” Thus adjured by the commanding tones of Alvira, the girl trifled no more, but related what she had seen, while hidden behind the thorns. She had a talent for description, and made so much of Annie’s stony face and strange behavior, that she succeeded in producing an effect of mystification upon her listeners scarcely second to that under which she, as an involuntary spectator, had labored. The success of her recital was not lost upon Samantha, as she went on: