"Wait 'n' see if he takes his horse out," said Hannah Sophia.
"Mebbe he'll drive her back in a few minutes. . . . No, he's onhitched!
. . . There, he's hangin' up the head-stall!"

"I've ben up in the attic chamber," called the Widow Buzzell,
as she descended the stairs; "she's pulled up the curtains, and took
off her hat right in front o' the winder, 's bold as a brass kettle!
She's come to stay! Ain't that Rube Hobson all over,--to bring another
woman int' this village 'stid o' weedin' one of 'em out as he'd oughter.
He ain't got any more public sperit than a--hedgehog, 'n' never had!"

Almira drew on her mitts excitedly, tied on her shaker,
and started for the door.

"I'm goin' over to Eunice's," she said, "and I'm goin'
to take my bottle of camphire. I shouldn't wonder a mite
if I found her in a dead faint on the kitchen floor.
Nobody need tell me she wa'n't buildin' hopes."

"I'll go with you," said the Widow Buzzell.
"I'd like to see with my own eyes how she takes it,
'n' it'll be too late to tell if I wait till after supper.
If she'd ben more open with me 'n' ever asked for my advice,
I could 'a' told her it wa'n't the first time Rube Hobson has
played that trick."

"I'd come too if 't wa'n't milkin' but Jot ain't home
from the Centre, and I've got to do his chores; come in as you
go along back, will you?" asked Diadema.