these concerts being over, Lyddy would pass crisp seedcakes and
raspberry shrub, doughnuts and cider, or hot popped corn and molasses
candy.

"But there, she can afford to," said Aunt Hitty Tarbox; "she's pretty
middlin' wealthy for Edgewood. And it's lucky she is, for she 'bout
feeds that boy o' Croft's. No wonder he wants her to fill him up,
after six years of the Widder Buck's victuals. Aurelia Buck can take
good flour and sugar, sweet butter and fresh eggs, and in ten strokes
of her hand she can make 'em into something the very hogs'll turn
away from. I declare, it brings the tears to my eyes sometimes when
I see her coming out of Croft's Saturday afternoons, and think of the
stone crocks full of nasty messes she's left behind her for that
innocent man and boy to eat up . . . Anthony goes to see Miss
Butterfield consid'able often. Of course it's awstensibly to walk
home with Davy, or do an errand or something, but everybody knows
better. She went down to Croft's pretty nearly every day when his
cousin Maria from Bridgton come to house-clean. Maria suspicioned
something, I guess. Anyhow, she asked me if Miss Butterfield's two
hundred a year was in gov'ment bonds. Anthony's eyesight ain't good,
but I guess he could make out to cut cowpons off . . . It would be
strange if them two left-overs should take an' marry each other;
though, come to think of it, I don't know's 't would neither. He's
blind, to be sure, and can't see her scarred face. It's a pity she
ain't deef, so 't she can't hear his everlastin' fiddle. She's lucky
to get any kind of a husband; she's too humbly to choose. I declare,
she reminds me of a Jack-o'-lantern, though if you look at the back
of her, or see her in meetin' with a thick veil on, she's about the
best appearin' woman in Edgewood . . . I never seen anybody stiffen
up as Anthony has. He had me make him three white shirts and three