"Don't never know where he goes, I expect?"

"No, Sir."

"Well, when he comes home,--know when he's a-comin' home?"

"No, Sir."

"Well, when he doos, you tell him 't some folks come to the tavern last
night, 'n' talked pretty loud, 'n' I heerd--Guess 'ta'n't best, though,
to tell what I heerd. Only you tell Abner 't I come here, and I said
he'd better be a-joggin'. He'll know, he'll know,--h'm, yes," said the
old man, passing his hand across his thin blue lips, as if to drive away
other words better left unsaid,--and then rising from his seat, by the
aid of either arm, gained his balance, and went on, while he fumbled for
his stick:--

"I'd ha' writ, but black and white's a hangin' matter sometimes, 'n'
words a'n't; 'n' I hadn't nobody to send, so I crawled along. Don't ye
forget now! don't ye! It's a pretty consider'ble piece o' business; 'n'
you'll be dreffully on't, ef you do forget. Now _don't_ ye forget!"

"No, I won't," said Hitty, trembling as she spoke; for the old man's
words had showed her a depth of dreadful possibility, and an old
acquaintance with crime and its manoeuvres, that chilled the blood in
her veins. She watched him out of the gate with a sickening sense of
terror at her heart, and turned slowly into the house, revolving all
kinds of plans in her head for her husband's escape, should her fears
prove true. Of herself she did not think; no law could harm her child;
but, even after years of brutality and neglect, her faithful affection