"Mother used to use plasters for her back, sometimes," observed Miss Nancy.

"These here Polish plasters, I reckon," volunteered Mrs. Doggett: "I've bought 'em too, but they never done _me_ no good. They's a new-fashioned kind o' plasters, I fergit the name. They writ on and wanted Marshall and Dock to be agents fer: I don't know how in the world they ever got holt o' their names. I been aimin' to try _them_, but a heap o' them remedies hain't nary bit o' count after you pay your money fer 'em.

"Whenever I go up to Susy's, when the bell rings, me and her always takes down the receiver, and evedraps the tillephorm, and last time I wuz thar, I heerd Mrs. Fetter a 'phoamin' to Miss Maud Floss about Bottum's medicine a bein' good rheumatiz medicine, and I got a little bottle, and tuck hit jest as prompt as I could, and hit never done nary bit o' good. I tuck hit by the directions, too. I dunno what causes me to have the rheumatiz so, fer I always wear red flannel underwear next to my skin, bein's. .h.i.t's so good fer the rheumatiz."

Miss Nancy was not patient with Mrs. Doggett's health history.

"I heard Jim'd been complainin'," she cited without comment.

"Yes, Jim's been broke out all over his body. It tarrified him awful fer a while; he jest couldn't git nary minute o' rest ontel he got somethin'

from the doctor fer hit. The doctor said his blood was out o' fix.

"He hadn't never been so bad off sence he quit killin' cats! He used to love to kill cats, Miss Nancy, better'n _anytheng_! And he never had no luck at nothin'. He tuck stomach trouble, and jest drinneled away to nothin', and I jest made him quit killin' cats. Sence he's had this eruptive spell, though, he's been a workin' all the time jest the same!

Seems like a body jest has to keep a goin', sick er well, ef they 'spect to have anytheng!"

"That's what I tell Lucy," Miss Nancy commented briefly, with considerable emphasis.

"I've got to do a big ir'nin' termorrer, fer though I wuzn't no ways able," explained Mrs. Doggett, "I done a big washin' the first o' the week. Ever' blessed theng wuz dirty. How many shirts you reckon I put out?"

"I have no idy," acknowledged Miss Nancy.

"Twenty-five white shirts, besides three apiece o' their ever'days!"

"That's a mighty big washin'," observed Miss Nancy, stooping to pick up a piece of green cashmere.

"Now hain't hit?" Mrs. Doggett went on, in genial disregard of the unbelief in her listener's tone: "but laws, that hain't nothin' to the big washin's I done along in the early fall at terbaccer-cuttin' time. I like to 'a' killed myse'f then. Their shirts and overhalls wuz all over gum offen the terbaccer, the awfulest lookin' sights that ever you seed: and I had to bile half the thengs in Jimpson leaf tea to git the stain out'n 'em. And when they got through housin' the terbaccer, and I had the beds to strip, and the bed clothes to wash, my clothes line wuz a plumb sight to see!"

Thinking her conversation on general topics had been of sufficient length, Mrs. Doggett began adroitly to lead up to the object of her visit, by a little judicious flattery.

"You're a lookin' well, now, Miss Nancy"; she fastened her keen black eyes on Miss Nancy's dun-colored hair and forbidding eyes: "me and Mr.

Brock wuz a talkin' about you night afore last, and I says: 'Actually and candidly, Miss Nancy is the best lookin' and the finest lookin' of any that family!'"

Miss Nancy uttered no word to indicate that she heard this bare-faced compliment, but the pleased red that crept slowly over her countenance was sufficient encouragement for Mrs. Doggett.

"Somebody wuz a tellin' me t'other day," she continued, "I believe hit wuz Henrietty, Jim's wife,--that Mr. West'd tuck to lookin' around ag'in, and he'd been a sendin' word he wanted to come to see you er Miss Lucy."

"Wantin'll be all then!" Miss Nancy gave a slight toss of her head.

"I don't blame you fer sayin' that. As little a chunk as he is, and as low to the ground, ef him and a fine tall woman like you wuz to walk in church together, he'd look like a reticule a hangin' onto your arm."

Mrs. Doggett measured Miss Nancy's ungainly figure with an approving eye.

"More than that, ef looks wuz suitable," Miss Nancy spoke abruptly, "I ain't a wantin' no widower with eight childern! When I marry, ef ever I do, it'll be a man without a family, with a good home, and money, but I ain't--"

"You're satisfied like you are, hain't you?" broke in Mrs. Doggett. "You hain't one o' them kind to jump off and marry jest to have hit said you're married! A heap marries, a thenkin' ef they jest have a husband, they'll never have need fer nothin' else, but when they're married, they find they need ever'theng but the husband, and they don't need him at all! I told 'em all t'other night, _you_ wuzn't a pickin', but ef you wuz, hit'd be somebody like Vaughn Castle, er Frank Arnold, your cousin, Effie Esther Willises' man,--not a man like,--"

"Like who?" Miss Nancy looked up quickly.

"Well, Miss Nancy, people will talk, you know, and when a single man's a stayin' wher' thar's two ladies that hain't married, folks will connect their names. Of course you wouldn't give no encouragement to sech as him--"

At Mrs. Doggett's tentative venture, the red blood came in a flood in Miss Nancy's face, and spread from her faded brown calico collar to the roots of the unlovely hair on her high forehead.

"And, seein' no prospect of gittin' your notice, he turned wher' his attentions wuz more welcomer," concluded her guest.

"You're a talkin' about Lucy and Mr. Lindsay, ain't you?" jerked out Miss Nancy, finally, when the tell-tale blush had partially faded.

"Yes, I am," admitted Mrs. Doggett: "the talk is they're a courtin'."

"I haven't saw no courtin' goin' on," insisted Miss Nancy in half hopeful prevarication, "have you?"

This was Mrs. Doggett's opportunity, eagerly seized.

"Well, Miss Nancy," she answered, laying a propitiatory hand on Miss Nancy's lap, "I'll tell you what little I know. As fur back as August,--the day my pore Callie lay a corpse, Miss Lucy wuz at her house, and Henrietty wuz thar, and Mr. Lindsay drapped in a few minutes.

Henrietty says they looked courty _then_. I asked Henrietty: 'Did they say anytheng lovin', Henrietty?' 'No, Ma, I can't say that they did,'

she says: '_she_ set down on the aidge o' the bed, a pinkin' up like a bashful young girl, and _he_ crossed over the room, and stood by her a minute er two, and they talked about the weather and sech like.'

"But Henrietty, she says they _looked_ love, to the best o' her belief, and a body can might' nigh tell what's up by the way folks looks and acts! And Gran'dad, _he_ says one day when him and Mr. Lindsay wuz in town, they seed Miss Lucy a goin' in a store, and Mr. Lindsay pointed towards her, and says: 'That's my woman, Gran'dad, ef I can git her!'"

The knee on which Mrs. Doggett's fingers lay, stiffened, and its owner's whole frame grew rigid under the intensity of her emotions at this verification of her suspicions.

"Maybe, they are a keepin' hit hid from you and your Pa, Miss Nancy,"

Mrs. Doggett hazarded. "Mr. Lindsay is mighty sly: he knows you all know he's a puny man--nigh as sickly as a consumptive, and hain't got nothin'

laid by!"

"Lucy's weakly herse'f, and it'd be plumb foolish fer her to thenk about marryin'!" Miss Nancy cried out sharply: "and ef she wuz to--to marry old Lindsay, it'd be jest the settin' up of another poor-house, and the County's got poor-houses a plenty now. Besides, Lucy owes it to me and Pa to stay here!"

"Well, yes, Miss Nancy," soothed Mrs. Doggett, "but your Pa's old, and may be tuck any time! Ef Miss Lucy wuz persuaded now to look a little higher--Mr. Brock, he hain't rich enough fer _you_, but he wouldn't be a bad match fer Miss Lucy, considerin'. Miss Lucy's about fifteen years older'n you, hain't she?"

"Nine years, three months, and five days," corrected Miss Nancy.

"Now Mr. Brock, he's got money laid up. He says sometimes Mr. Castle when he's got all his'n invested er somethin', actually borry's from him!" equivocated Mrs. Doggett. "And Mr. Brock's jest the best man in his fambly: Evy and Reub jest worships him. And he's sech a good pervider, and a high standin' man in the community, too."

At that moment old Zeke barked: Miss Nancy stepped to the window.

"Hit's Lucy a comin' down the lane," she informed Mrs. Doggett who had arisen: "Zeke's saw the buggy."

"Hain't that somebody on a hoss a ridin' 'longside the buggy?" Mrs.

Doggett peered close to the gla.s.s: "the snow is so blindin' a body can't skeercely see."

"Hit's Mr. Lindsay," answered Miss Nancy shortly, "a comin' from the store."

"Well, I got to go." Mrs. Doggett drew on her wraps. "Ef you're sh.o.r.e you won't need 'em, I'll borry a couple your ir'ns fer termorrer."

When the rider, and the driver reached the yard, Mr. Lindsay, innocent of the two pairs of critical eyes that watched him from the kitchen window, turned back the top of the buggy carefully, and with a hand that all the hard work in the world could not make other than gentle, a.s.sisted Miss Lucy to alight.

"Jest watch him, will ye?" Mrs. Doggett inveighed: "a handlin' Miss Lucy like she wuz aigs! Hain't he a puttin' on a good pious face, and him what he is, now! You hain't heerd I reckon, about him a goin' to Owensboro ever' onct in a while?" She lowered her voice to a meaning whisper.

"No!" Miss Nancy waited expectant.