"Laws! Mr. Redfield, is it you?"--throwing the door wide open. "I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. If I'd had any idea it was _you_, I shouldn't a' been skeered. But husband's gone to the village, and I was alone with the children, and when you knocked so sudden, my heart came right up in my mouth. I didn't like to see who 'twas. Do come in. How cold 'tis out to-night. You look real blue. Take a chair by the stove and warm yourself. I'm real ashamed I kept you standing so long. How is all the family, sir?" "About as usual, Mrs. Scott. So you are cowardly when you are alone evenings, are you? I've mistaken your character, then; I've given you credit for being one of the strong-minded women." "Wal, the truth is," she said apologetically, "I never did used to be afraid of any thing, dead or alive. But, since young Mr. Henry was took away so sudden, I've been nervous and frightened like. I've never got over the shock. I'll holler right out, sometimes, in broad daylight, if any thing startles me, if it's only a door slamming. Husband laughs at me and scolds me, but I can't help it." "Nobody's going to hurt _you_, because another had evil happen to him." "I know that as well as anybody. It's not because I've reason to be afeard, that I am--it's the shock, you see. There, there, Johnny, be still, will you? I used to go all over the place the darkest night that ever was--but now, really, I'm ashamed to tell you, I dasn't put my face out after dark." "I should think it would be unpleasant, such a chronic state of fear," and I half-smiled through my own melancholy, at the woman's anxious face. "Onpleasant! I reckon it is mighty onpleasant. But there's good reason for it." "You just acknowledged that there was no reason--that it was fancy, Mrs. Scott." "You're goin' to trip me over my own words, Mr. Redfield. It _was_ fancy, at first, just nervousness; but lately--lately, as I said, there's been things--" "What things?" "I know you'll laugh at me, sir; and you won't half believe me, neither--so I guess I'd better not make a fool of myself before you. But if you, or any other livin' person, had seen what I seen, and heard what I heard, then you'd know what I know--that's all!" She spoke with such evident earnestness, and I had hitherto felt so much respect for the sturdy strength and integrity of her New England character, that my curiosity was somewhat aroused. I thought best to let her quiet herself, however, before leading her to converse about the subject most on her mind, as I saw that she still trembled from the fright I had given her by my sudden knock at the door. "How's the place getting on since the winter weather set in? I suppose your husband had the plants housed long ago. Has he been making any changes with the grounds? I suppose not, since the family has so completely deserted the villa. I came out to-night to take a look at it. This is the twenty-third of December, do you remember?"