"--

"Yes, anybody feels such changes," replied Maria compassionately.
"You've seen trouble, ain't you?"

"I've seen all kinds of trouble," said the withered little creature,
mournfully.

"How is your daughter to South Atfield gettin' along?" asked the
hostess kindly, after a pause, while Polly worked away at the pie.

"Lord bless you! this pie is so heartenin', somehow or 'nother, after
such a walk. Susan Louisa is doin' pretty well; she's a sight improved
from what she was. Folks is very considerate to Susan Louisa. She goes
to the Orthodox church, an' sence she was sick there's been a
committee to see to her. They met, fifteen in number. One on 'em give
her two quarts o' milk a day. Mr. Dean, Susan Louisa's husband, died
the eighth day o' last March."

"Yes, I heard he was gone, rather sudden," said Maria, showing more
interest.

"Yes, but he was 'twixt eighty an' ninety year old. Susan Louisa was
but fifty-one in February last."

"He'd have done better for you, wouldn't he, Mis' Norris?" suggested
Maria, by way of pleasantry, but there was a long and doubtful pause.

"I had rather be excused," said Polly at last, with great emphasis.
"Miss Maria Durrant, ain't you got a calico dress you could spare, or
an apron, or a pair o' rubbers, anyways? I be extra needy, now, I tell
you! There; I ain't inquired for William's folks; how be they?"

"All smart," said Maria, for the second time; but she happened to look
up just in time to catch a strange gleam in her visitor's eyes.

"Mis' William don't come here, I expect?" she asked mysteriously.

"She never was no great of a visitor. Yes, she comes sometimes,"
answered Maria Durrant.

"I understood William had forbid her till you'd got away, if she was
your own cousin."

"We're havin' no trouble together. What do you mean?" Maria demanded.

"Well, my hearing ain't good." Polly tried to get herself into safe
shelter of generalities. "Old folks kind o' dreams things; you must
excuse me, Maria. But I certain have heard a sight o' talk about your
stoppin' here so long with Mr. Haydon, and that William thought you
was overdoin', an' would have spoke, only you was his wife's cousin.
There's plenty stands up for you; I should always be one of 'em my
self; you needn't think but I'm a friend, Maria. I heard somebody
a-remarking that you was goin' to stay till you got him; an' others
said Mr. Israel Haydon was one to know his own mind, and he never
would want to put nob