Miss Fortune took the pitcher and went into the pantry. While she was gone, the two children improved the time in looking very hard at each other. Ellen's gaze was modest enough, though it showed a great deal of interest in the new object; but the broad, searching stare of the other seemed intended to take in all there was of Ellen from her head to her feet, and keep it, and find out what sort of a creature she was at once. Ellen almost shrank from the bold black eyes, but they never wavered, till Miss Fortune's voice broke the spell. "How's your grandmother, Nancy?" "She's tolerable, Ma’am, thank you." "Now, if you don't bring it back to-morrow, you won't get any more in a hurry," said Miss Fortune, as she handed the pitcher back to the girl. "I'll mind it," said the latter, with a little nod of her head, which seemed to say there was no danger of her forgetting. "Who is that, aunt Fortune?" said Ellen, when she was gone. "She is a girl that lives up on the mountain yonder." "But what's her name?" "I had just as lief you wouldn't know her name. She ain't a good girl. Don't you never have anything to do with her." Ellen was in no mind to give credit to all her aunt's opinions, and she set this down as in part at least coming from ill-humour. The next morning was calm and fine, and Ellen spent nearly the whole of it out of doors. She did not venture near the ditch, but in every other direction she explored the ground, and examined what stood or grew upon it as thoroughly as she dared. Towards noon she was standing by the little gate at the back of the house, unwilling to go in, but not knowing what more to do, when Mr. Van Brunt came from the lane with a load of wood. Ellen watched the oxen toiling up the ascent, and thought it looked like very hard work; she was sorry for them. "Isn't that a very heavy load?" she asked of their driver, as he was throwing it down under the apple-tree. "Heavy? Not a bit of it. It ain't nothing at all to 'em. They'd take twice as much any day with pleasure." "I shouldn't think so," said Ellen; "they don't look as if there was much pleasure about it. What makes them lean over so against each other when they are coming up hill?" "Oh, that's just a way they've got. They're so fond of each other, I suppose. Perhaps they've something particular to say, and want to put their heads together for the purpose." "No," said Ellen, half laughing, "it can't be that; they wouldn't take the very hardest time for that; they would wait till they got to the top of the hill: but there they stand just as if they were asleep, only their eyes are open. Poor things!" "They're not very poor anyhow," said Mr. Van Brunt; "there ain't a finer yoke of oxen to be seen than them are, nor in better condition." He went on throwing the wood out of the cart, and Ellen stood looking at him. "What'll you give me if I'll make you a scup one of these days?" said Mr. Van Brunt. "A scup!" said Ellen.