She was plaguy close, too, as to her goings and comings; and if she happened any time by accident to let drop the least word that show’d me where to find her next time, she was so mad with herself that she was ready to bite her tongue off. One day she was going to her Aunt Molly’s to spend the evening, and she went all the way round to Dr. Dingley’s to tell Mrs. Dingley not to tell me. “For,” says she, “I don’t want him to be dodging me about everywhere.” Well, Mrs. Dingley, she promised to keep dark, but she told the Doctor, and what does the Doctor do, but comes right straight over and tells me, “Gone all stark alone,” says he, “but it’s none of my business.” This is the day that I have marked with a piece of chalk. Hardly was daylight down before I was snug in my skulking nest, in Aunt Molly’s barn. It was on the hay-mow, where there was a knot-hole handy to look through and see all that went in or out of the house. I had a scheme in my head that Hannah little dreamt of; and I lay and I thought it over till she came out; and when I got her under my arm, and walking down the lane, thinks I, I’ll set the stone a-rolling anyhow, let it stop where it will. So I set on to talking about this and that and tother thing, and happened (by mere chance, you know) to mention our old hatter shop, that stands at the corner, that my father used to work in when he was alive. “And,” says I, “speaking of the shop, always puts me in mind of you, Hannah.” “Of me, John?” says she. “Why?” “O! it’s just the thing for a store,” says I. “Well?” “Sweep out the dirt, and old hat pairings, and truck—” “Well?” “Take the sign; rub out ‘Hatter,’ and put in ‘Merchant;’ and that spells ‘John Beedle, Merchant—’” “Well, John?” “Then get rum and molasses, and salt-fish, and ribbonds and calicoes—” “O!” says she, “it’s my new calico gownd you was a-thinking of. Ain’t it pretty?” “Oh!” says I “’tis a sweet pretty gownd,” says I. “But—I finally concluded to set up store and get married, and settle myself down as a merchant for life—” At this, Hannah hung down her head and gave a snicker. “And how does all that put you in mind of me, John?” says she. “Guess.” “I won’t guess to touch to, so there now—I never!” What I said, and what she said next, is all lost, for I’ll be shot if I can remember. It’s all buz, buz, in my head, like a dream. The first thing I knew, we were right again Captain Peabody’s barn, walking as close together as we could with comfort, and our arms crossed round each other’s waist. Hannah’s tongue had got thawed out, and was running like a brook on a freshet, and all one steady stream of honey. I vow, I was ready to jump out of my skin.