was the one she meant," laughed the Widow Buzzell.

"I never was caught cheatin' yet, and if I live till Saturday I shall
be seventy-one years old," said the old lady with some heat. "Hand me
Jot's lead pencil, Diademy, and that old envelope on the winder sill.
I'll write the name I think of, and shut it up in the old Bible.
My hand's so stiff to-day I can't hardly move it, but I guess I can make
it plain enough to satisfy you."

"That's fair 'n' square," said Hannah Sophia, "and for
my pat I hope it ain't Eunice, for I like her too well.
What they're goin' to live on is more 'n I can see. Add nothin'
to nothin' 'n' you git nothin',--that's arethmetic! He ain't hed
a cent o' ready money sence he failed up four years ago, 'thout it
was that hundred dollars that fell to him from his wife's aunt.
Eunice'll hev her hands full this winter, I guess, with them
three hearty children 'n' him all wheezed up with phthisic
from October to April! . . . Who's that coming' down Tory Hill?
It's Rube's horse 'n' Rube's wagon, but it don't look like Rube."

"Yes, it's Rube; but he's got a new Panama hat, 'n' he 's hed his
linen duster washed," said old Mrs. Bascom. . . . "Now, do you
mean to tell me that that woman with a stuck-up hat on is Eunice Emery?
It ain't, 'n' that green parasol don't belong to this village. He's drivin'
her into his yard! . . . Just as I s'posed, it's that little, smirkin'
worthless school-teacher up to the Mills.--Don't break my neck, Diademy;
can't you see out the other winder?--Yes, he's helpin' her out, 'n' showin'
her in. He can't 'a' ben married more'n ten minutes, for he's goin'
clear up the steps to open the door for her!"