"Anypotty know ter Miss Scutter haus?" asked the driver, bracing his
feet on the mail-bag which lay in front of him, and screwing his head
round so as to face in. There seemed to be a consultation going on
inside the stage.

"I don't know nobody o' that name in Jericho. Do you, Lishe?" asked a
weather-beaten-looking man, who evidently "went by water," of another
one who apparently went the same way.

"There wos ole Square Gow's da'ter, she marri'd a Scudder; moved up here
some two years back. Come to think on't, guess she lives nigher to
Glass-house," answered Lishe.

The driver, finding he could get no light out of the passengers, seeing
a tall, raw-boned woman washing some clothes in front of a house, and
who flew out of sight as the stage flew in, handed me the reins as he
jumped from his seat and chased the fugitive, hallooing,--

"I'fe got der small pox, I'fe got der--" Here his voice was lost as he
dashed into the open door of the house. But in a minute he reappeared,
followed by a broom with an enraged woman annexed, and a loud voice
shouting out,--

"You git out of this! Clear yourself, quicker! I ain't goin' to have you
diseasin' honest folks, ef you have got the smallpox."

"I dells you I'fe got der small pox. Ton't you versteh? der SMALL POX!"
This time he shouted it out in capital letters!

"Clear out! I'll call the men-folks ef you don't clear;" and at once she