"H'm. Jest bring my shawl, Sairay. Come to think on't, I've got an arrant there myself this arternoon—come nigh to disremembering it. Waal, good-day; why don't ye come over ever? When ye want advice, or anythin', I'm allers there," and the woman ambled swiftly away, having quite forgotten the lecture she had prepared for the "shiftless, bookish gal" she was leaving, and only intent on learning what Zeba and Betty could want with her opposite neighbor.
Molly dropped into a chair, and laughed merrily.
"Didn't I get rid of her slick, though? Say, Sara, what does she make you think of?"
"Hush, Molly, she's a good soul, and means well."
"So's a cow, but you don't want her trampling all over your garden! I'll tell you what she's like—an old rabbit in a cap. She keeps her nose going just the same, and her ears are even longer."
"Molly! Molly!"
"Well, it's so, and you can't deny it. Do you know, Sara, she stopped Morton and me this morning, when we were going to school, and told him it was a shame for him to 'set araound, a-livin' on his sister, and he ought to get a berth in one of the fishing-smacks, and would if he had any grit to him.' It made Mort as blue as anything, and he's gone down to Uncle Jabez Wanamead's now, to see about shipping."
"Molly, are you sure?" springing up in excitement. "I won't have it. He's too young, and hasn't had half schooling enough; and, Molly, are you certain he went there?"
Molly nodded, quite enjoying this excitement in her usually placid sister.
"Then I must go after him, and leave you to tend Neddie. Oh, why can't people mind their own affairs?"