debt. She could
trudge across pastures as well as anybody, and the old grudge was done
with. Mercy hardly noticed how her fingers trembled as she unhooked
the old gray gown. The odor of sweet fern shook out fresh and strong
as she smoothed and laid it carefully over a chair. There was a little
rent in the skirt, but she could mend it by daylight.

The great harvest moon was shining high in the sky, and she needed no
other light in the bedroom. "I've be'n a smart woman to work in my
day, and I've airnt a little pleasurin'," said Mother Bascom sleepily
to herself. "Poor Ruthy! so she looks old, does she? I'm goin' to tell
her right out, 't was I that spoke first to Tobias."

GOING TO SHREWSBURY.

The train stopped at a way station with apparent unwillingness, and
there was barely time for one elderly passenger to be hurried on board
before a sudden jerk threw her almost off her unsteady old feet and we
moved on. At my first glance I saw only a perturbed old countrywoman,
laden with a large basket and a heavy bundle tied up in an
old-fashioned bundle-handkerchief; then I discovered that she was a
friend of mine, Mrs. Peet, who lived on a small farm, several miles
from the village. She used to be renowned for good butter and fresh
eggs and the earliest cowslip greens; in fact, she always made the
most of her farm's slender resources; but it was some time since I had
seen her drive by from market in her ancient thorough-braced wagon.

The brakeman followed her into the crowded car, also carrying a number
of packages. I leaned forward and asked Mrs. Peet to sit by me; it was
a great pleasure to see her again. The brakeman seemed relieved, and
smiled as he tried to put part of his burden into the rack overhead;
but even the flowered carpet-bag was much too large, and he explained
that he would take care of everything at the end of the car. Mrs. Peet
was not large herself, but with the big basket, and the
bundle-handkerchief, and some possessions of my own we had very little
spare room.

"So this 'ere is what you call ridin' in the cars! Well, I do
declare!" said my friend, as soon as she had recovered herself a
little. She looked pale and as if she had been in tears, but there was
the familiar gleam of good humor in her tired old eyes.

"Where in the world are you going, Mrs. Peet?" I asked.

"Can't be you ain't heared about me, dear?" said she. "Well, the
world's bigger than I used to think 't was. I've broke