last," she said, and she trotted down as well
as her lameness would let her to the gate. "Has you brought the
apples?" she cried. "You are very late, Missy. Oh, I'm obligated, of
course, and I thank you heartily, Miss. Will you wait for the basket,
or shall I send it by Scott to-morrow?"

"You can send it to-morrow, please," answered Sibyl.

"And you ain't a-coming in? The lad's expecting you."

"I am afraid I cannot, not to-night. Mother wasn't able to come with
me. Tell Dan that I brought him his apples, and I'll come and see him
to-morrow if I possibly can. Tell him I won't make him an out-and-out
promise, 'cos if you make a promise to the poor and don't keep it,
Lord Jesus is angry, and you get cursed. I don't quite know what
cursed means, do you, Mrs. Scott?"

[Illustration: An old woman wearing a bedgown, and with a cap with a
large frill, appeared in the porch of the tiny cottage.--Page 224.
_Daddy's Girl_.]

"Oh, don't I," answered Mrs. Scott. "It's a pity you can't come in,
Missy. There, Danny, keep quiet; the little lady ain't no time to be
a-visiting of you. That's him calling out, Missy; you wait a
minute, and I'll find out what he wants."

Mrs. Scott hobbled back to the house, and the pony chafed restlessly
at the delay.

"Quiet, darling; quiet, pet," said Sibyl to her favorite, patting him
on his arched neck.

Presently Mrs. Scott came back.

"Dan's obligated for the apples, Miss, but he thinks a sight more of a
talk with you than of any apples that ever growed. He 'opes you'll
come another day."

"I wish, I do wish I could come in now," said Sibyl wistfully; "but I
just daren't. You see, I have not even my riding habit on, I was so
afraid someone would stop me from coming at all. Give Danny my love.
But you have not told me yet what a curse means, Mrs. Scott."

"Oh, that," answered Mrs. Scott, "but you ain't no call to know."

"But I'd like to. I hate hearing things without understanding. What is
a curse, Mrs. Scott?"

"There are all sorts," replied Mrs. Scott. "Once I knowed a man, and
he had a curse on him, and he dwindled and dwindled, and got smaller
and thinner and poorer, until nothing would nourish him, no food nor
drink nor nothing, and he shrunk up ter'ble until he died. It's my
belief he haunts the churchyard now. No one likes to go there in the
evening. The name of the man was Micah Sorrel. He was the most ter'ble
example of a curse I ever comed acrost in my life."

"Well, I