“Well,” she continued, “it struck me then and there, like a streak o'
lightnin'; I screeched and tumbled like a shot hawk, and so betwixt the
saddle and the ground, as the sayin' is, it come to me--not mercy, but
knowledge, all the same, you know what I mean; and I saw them was Alf.
Barton's shoulders, and I remembered the old man was struck with palsy
the year afore Gilbert was born, and I dunno how many other things come
to me all of a heap; and now you know, Gilbert, what made me holler. I
borrowed the loan o' his bay horse and put off for Phildelphy the very
next day, and a mortal job it was; what with bar'ls and boxes pitched
hither and yon, and people laughin' at y'r odd looks,--don't talk o'
Phildelphy manners to me, for I've had enough of 'em!--and old Treadwell
dead when I did find him, and the daughter married to Greenfield in the
brass and tin-ware business, it's a mercy I ever found out anything.”
“Come to the point, Betsy,” said Elisha, impatiently.
“The point, Betsy. The p'int 's this: I made out from the Greenfield
woman that the man who used to come to see Mary Potter was the perfect
pictur' o' young Alf. Barton; then to where she went next, away down to
the t'other end o' Third Street, boardin', he payin' the board till just
afore Gilbert was born--and that's enough, thinks I, let me get out o'
this rackety place. So home I posted, but not all the way, for no use
to tell Mary Potter, and why not go right to Old-man Barton, and let him
know who his daughter-in-law and son is, and see what'll come of it? Th'
old man, you must know, always could abide me better 'n most women, and
I wasn't a bit afeard of him, not lookin' for legacies, and wouldn't
have 'em at any such price; but never mind. I hid my horse in the woods
and sneaked into the house across the fields, the back way, and good
luck that nobody was at home but Ann, here; and so I up and told the old
man the whole story.”
“The devil!” Alfred Barton could not help exclaiming, as he recalled his
father's singular manner on the evening of the day in question.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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