"Who knows, miss?" said I; "but it would be a pity if you did n't, and so many there that's fond of you!"
"I don't believe it," says she, sharp. "I don't believe there's one cares a bit about me!"
"Baithershin!" says I, mocking.
"Who does?" says she; "can ye tell me even one?"
"Sure there 's Miss Davis," says I, "and the Kellys, and there's Miss Kitty Doolan, and ould Molly, not to spake of Dr. Bel—"
"There, do not speak of him," says she, getting red; "the very names of the people make me shudder. I hope I 'll never see one of them."
Now, Shusan dear, I told you all that it's in my mind, and hope you 'll write to me the same. If you could send me the gray cloak with the blue linin', and the bayver bonnet I wore last winter two years, they 'd be useful to me here, and you could tell the neighbors that it was new clothes you were sendin' me for my weddin'. Be sure ye tell me how Sam Healey bears it. Tell him from me, with my regards, that I hope he won't take to drink, and desthroy his constitution.
You can write to me still as before, to your attached and true friend,
Betty Cobb.