"She's tolerable, Maam, thank you."
"Now, if you don't bring it back to-morrow, you won't get any more in a hurry," said Miss Fortune, as she handed the pitcher back to the girl.
"I'll mind it," said the latter, with a little nod of her head, which seemed to say there was no danger of her forgetting.
"Who is that, aunt Fortune?" said Ellen, when she was gone.
"She is a girl that lives up on the mountain yonder."
"But what's her name?"
"I had just as lief you wouldn't know her name. She ain't a good girl. Don't you never have anything to do with her."
Ellen was in no mind to give credit to all her aunt's opinions, and she set this down as in part at least coming from ill-humour.
The next morning was calm and fine, and Ellen spent nearly the whole of it out of doors. She did not venture near the ditch, but in every other direction she explored the ground, and examined what stood or grew upon it as thoroughly as she dared. Towards noon she was standing by the little gate at the back of the house, unwilling to go in, but not knowing what more to do, when Mr. Van Brunt came from the lane with a load of wood. Ellen watched the oxen toiling up the ascent, and thought it looked like very hard work; she was sorry for them.
"Isn't that a very heavy load?" she asked of their driver, as he was throwing it down under the apple-tree.