Mrs. John C. sank into a seat, and devoted the first few moments to breathing.
"Well," said she, "I heard the workmen was off to-day; so I thought I'd poke in an' see the new house."
"Yes," said Ann, "they had to wait for mortar. It's goin' to be a nice pretty place, ain't it?"
"Complete. Well, I should think you'd be rejoiced to have neighbors, all alone as you be."
Ann smiled.
"I never see a lonesome minute," she said. "There's everything goin' on round in these woods. The birds an' flyin' things are jest as busy as the hand o' man, if ye know how to ketch 'em at it. Still, I guess I've got to the time o' life when I shall kinder enjoy neighbors."
"Ain't you never afraid?"
"I guess there's nothin' round here that's wuss'n myself," returned Ann, proffering the ancient witticism with a jocose certainty of its worth. "I ain't very darin', neither. Not much like father, I ain't, nor what brother Will used to be. Either o' them'd face Old Nick an' give him as good as he sent."
"Well, all I can say is, folks can't be too near for me. What would you do if you should be sick in the night?"
"I dunno," said Ann gayly. "Set down an' suck my claws, I guess, an' wait till daylight. I can't think o' nothin' else." She had finished her polishing and set back the silver, to eye it with a critical and delighted gaze. Then she washed her hands at the sink, and brought out a fine white napkin from the high-boy, and spread it on a little table between the windows. "I dunno but I'm dretful childish," she said, "but arter I've got it all rubbed up, I keep it here in sight, a day or two, it ketches the sun so. Then I set it away in the best-room cluzzet."