“Because—I—want—you—to—get—it— in—Boston,” she said, filling the breaks between her words with a concentrated essence of acerbity such as even she had never displayed before. “When I say a thing, I mean it pretty generally. Quite often—most always. I want that cotton and it’s to be bought in Boston. There’s a train that goes in at seven-forty-five, and if you don’t favor the idea of ridin’ on it you can take the express that goes by at six-five.” Arethusa pressed her hands very tightly together and carried the discussion no further. She went to bed early and rose early the next morning and Joshua drove her in town to the seven-forty-five. “It doesn’t seem to me that my aunt is very well,” the niece said during the drive. “What do you think?” “I don’t think anything about her,” said Joshua with great candor. “If I was to give to thinkin’ I’d o’ moved out to Chicago an’ been scalpin’ Indians to-day.” “I wonder if that trip to New York was good for her?” Arethusa wondered mildly. Joshua flicked Billy with the whip and refused to voice any opinion as to New York’s effect on his mistress. Arethusa was well on her way to Boston when Aunt Mary’s bell, rung with a sharp jangle, summoned Lucinda to open her bedroom blinds. While Lucinda was leaning far out and attempting to cause said blinds to catch on the hooks, which habitually held them back against the side of the house, her mistress addressed her with a suddeness which showed that she had awakened with her wits surprisingly well in hand. “Where’s Joshua? Is he got back from Arethusa? Answer me, Lucinda.” Lucinda drew herself in through the open window with an alacrity remarkable for one of her years. “Yes, he’s back,” she yelled. Aunt Mary looked at her with a sort of incensed patience. “Well, what’s he doin’? If he’s back, where is he? Lucinda, if you knew how hard it is for me to keep quiet you’d answer when I asked things. Why in Heaven’s name don’t you say suthin’? Anythin’? Anythin’ but nothin’, that is.” “He’s mowin’,” Lucinda shrieked. “Sewin’!” exclaimed Aunt Mary. “What’s he sewin’? Where’s he sewin’? Have you stopped doin’ his darnin’?” Lucinda gathered breath by compressing her sides with her hands, and then replied, directing her voice right into the ear-trumpet: “He’s mowin’ the back lawn.” Aunt Mary winced and shivered. “My heavens, Lucinda!” she exclaimed, sharply. “I wish’t there was a school to teach outsiders the use of an ear-trumpet. They can’t seem to hit the medium between either mumblin’ or splittin’ one’s ear drums.” Lucinda was too much out of breath from her effort to attempt any audible penitence. Her mistress continued: “Well, you find him wherever he is, and tell him to harness up the buggy and go and get Mr. Stebbins as quick as ever he can. Hurry!” Lucinda exited with a promptitude that fulfilled all that her lady’s heart could wish. She found Joshua whetting his scythe. “She wants Mr. Stebbins right off,” said Lucinda.