"Katytown papers," I said. "I don't suppose there's a soul there outside the family that I care whether I ever see again or not."
"Why, Cossy," she said, "there's Lena—"
"Lena Curtsy!" I said. "Good heavens! Mrs. Bingy, I wish you wouldn't call me 'Cossy.'"
"I always do forget the Cosma," she said humbly; "I'll try to remember better. But Lena Curtsy—Cossy, she's married to Luke."
"Good for them," I said; "and I suppose they had a charivari that woke the cemetery. That's Katytown."
"They've gone to housekeeping to Luke's father's," said Mrs. Bingy. "Don't you want to read about it, Cossy—Cosma?"
I took the paper. "Mrs. Bingy," I said, "I came down to show you my new dress."
"It's a beauty," she said. "I noticed it first thing when I see you. It must be all-silk." She examined it with careful fingers. "I made this of mine myself," she added, proud.
"Do you know anything about Keddie?" I asked her.
She begun to cry. "That's all that's the matter," she says. "The first money I earned I sent him enough to go and take the cure. The letter come back to me, marked that they couldn't find him. So I took the baby and run down to Katytown, and, sure enough, the house was rented to strangers and not a stick of furniture left in it. He'd sold it all off and went West. And me with the money to give him the cure, when it's too late. I ought," she says, "never to have left him."