Thirza did not deign to reply, but walked indifferently away.
"Wall!" ejaculated the bewildered spinster, "I hope I may never!" And then, being a person who believed in improving one's opportunities, she proceeded at once to a careful re-examination of the "silk-warp alpacky," which hung in straight, solemn folds from a nail in the closet; it had hung precisely the same upon Aunt Abigail's lathy form.
Thirza went into the gloomy fore-room. It struck a chill to her heart, and she went straight past Mr. Stebbins, with merely a nod and a "good-evening," and threw open another shutter, before seating herself so far from him, and in such a position, that he could only see her face by an extraordinary muscular feat. Mr. Stebbins felt that his reception was not an encouraging one. He hemmed and hawed, and at last managed to utter:
"Pleasant evenin', Miss Bradford."
"Very," responded Thirza. It was particularly cold and disagreeable outside, even for a New England April.
"I guess we kin begin plantin' by next week," continued the gentleman.
"Do you really think so?" responded Thirza, in an absent sort of way.
It was not much; but it was a question, and in so far helped on the conversation. Mr. Stebbins was re-assured.
"Yes," he resumed, in an animated manner, "I actooally dew! Ye see, Miss Bradford, ye haint said nothin' tew me about the farm, so I thought I'd come 'roun' an' find out what yer plans is."