"That's true--that's Testymen true!" And the individual addressed as Mrs. Twitt, heaved a profound sigh which was loud enough to flutter through the open door to Helmsley's ears--"Which, as I sez to Twitt often, shows as 'ow we shouldn't iver tempt Providence. Spiders there is, an' spiders there will be 'angin' on boughs an' 'edges, frequent too in September, but we aint called upon to look at 'em, only when the devil puts 'em out speshul to catch the hi, an' then they means mischief. An' that' just what 'as 'appened this present minit, Mis' Deane,--that spider on yer ironin' blanket 'as caught my hi." "I'm so sorry!" said Mary, sweetly--"But as long as the spider doesn't bring _you_ any ill-luck, Mrs. Twitt, I don't mind for myself--I don't, really!" Mrs. Twitt emitted an odd sound, much like the grunt of a small and discontented pig. "It's a reckless foot as don't mind precipeges,"--she remarked, solemnly--"'Owsomever, I've given ye fair warnin'. An' 'ow's yer father's friend?" "He's much better,--quite out of danger now,"--replied Mary--"He's going to get up to-day." "David's 'is name, so I 'ears,"--continued Mrs. Twitt; "I've never myself knowed anyone called David, but it's a common name in some parts, speshul in Scripter. Is 'e older than yer father would 'a bin if so be the Lord 'ad carried 'im upright to this present?" "He seems a little older than father was when he died,"--answered Mary, in slow, thoughtful accents--"But perhaps it is only trouble and illness that makes him look so. He's very gentle and kind. Indeed,"--here she paused for a second--then went on--"I don't know whether it's because I've been nursing him so long and have got accustomed to watch him and take care of him--but I've really grown quite fond of him!" Mrs. Twitt gave a short laugh. "That's nat'ral, seein' as ye're lone in life without 'usband or childer,"--she said--"There's a many wimmin as 'ud grow fond of an Aunt Sally on a pea-stick if they'd nothin' else to set their 'arts on. An' as the old chap was yer father's friend, there's bin a bit o' feelin' like in lookin' arter 'im. But I wouldn't take 'im on my back as a burgin, Mis' Deane, if I were you. Ye're far better off by yerself with the washin' an' lace-mendin' business." Mary was silent.