She, of course, always had me to entertain her company; she knew she should get me; and, as she went away, she always said something about how pleasant and right it was to be neighborly.
After a few years, some one of her relations gave her a nice tea-kettle. She brought it in to show to my mistress. I was hissing away at the time for breakfast, which was hardly over when she entered. After she had shown her kettle to every one, and satisfied herself that it would bear a comparison with me, she said,—
"Now, at last, I've got a kittle o' my own; and I'll never borry nor lend agin as long as I live in this here vale o' tears."
Not long after this, a careless girl left my rival on the fire till the bottom was burned through, and the kettle was ruined.
The next time the good woman came, her speech ran somewhat thus; "I spose you was to meetin' last Sabbath."
"Yes."
"Well, if you was, I guess you heerd how the minister told us to be good to one another—to be neighborly, and help folks along. Now I guess as how I told you once that I shouldn't neither borry nor lend. Now I ain't tew old to larn and mend my ways, and I mean to deu as the parson says, and lend and borry all the days of my life; so maybe you'll lend me that ere kittle."
But I must tell you about one of these visits I made to this peculiar neighbor. When she came in for me that day, she looked full of business and earnestness, and, before she was fairly seated, she began to tell her errand.
"I have come," she said, "to invite you all to a rag bee, every one on ye—men folks and all, because they can cut and wind and be agreeable, and hand round cups and sarcers and things to eat, if they can't deu nothin' else; so now you must all come and bring your thimbles and scissors and big needles, and, ef you've no objections, I'll jest take the tea-kittle now, as I'm goin' straight home."
My mistress, who was the kindest person that ever lived, promised to go to the rag party. She wished to please and aid this selfish woman, for she was her nearest neighbor."