"No more I don't, mum; they're troublesome craychers, so fur as I've seen."
"But don't you get down-hearted, living all alone?"
"O, no, mum; I do suppose I'm the happiest woman in the city o' New Yorruk. When I goes to bed, I just gives up all my thrubbles to the Lord, and goes to sleep."
"But when you are sick, Granny?"
"O, then, sometimes I feels bahd, not to be airnin' nothin', and gets some afeard o' the poorhouse; but, bless ye, I can't help thinking the Lord'll keep me out."
"I'm pretty sure He will," said Aunt Madge, resolving on the spot that the good old soul never should go to a place she dreaded so much. "Have you any butter-scotch to-day, Granny?"
"O, yes, mum; sights of it. Help yourself. I want to tell you something'll please you," said the old woman, bending forward, and speaking in a low tone, and with sparkling eyes. "I've put some money in the bank, mum; enough to bury me! Ain't that good!"
Prudy and Dotty were terribly shocked. She must be crazy to talk about her own funeral. As if she was glad of it, too? But Horace thought it a capital joke.
"That's a jolly way to use your money," whispered he to Prudy; "much good may it do her?" And then aloud, in a patronizing tone, "I'll take a few of your apples, Granny. How do you sell 'em?"
"These here, a penny apiece; them there, two pennies; and them, three."