jestically about the premises, with note-books and pens.
Aaron Whitcomb was a grave portly old man, with a large head of white
hair. Silas White was little and wiry and fussy. He monopolized the
greater part of the business, although he was not half as well fitted
for it as his companion.

They pried into everything with religious exactitude. Mrs. Polly
watched them with beseeming awe and deference, but it was a great
trial to her, and she grew very nervous over it. It seemed dreadful
to have all her husband's little personal effects, down to his
neck-band and mittens, handled over, and their worth in shillings and
pence calculated. She had a price fixed on them already in higher
currency.

Ann found her crying one afternoon sitting on the kitchen settle,
with her apron over her head. When she saw the little girl's pitying
look, she poured out her trouble to her.

"They've just been valuing _his_ mittens and gloves," said she,
sobbing, "at two-and-sixpence. I shall be thankful, when they are
through."

"Are there any more of _his_ things?" asked Ann, her black eyes
flashing, with the tears in them.

"I think they've seen about all. There's his blue jacket he used to
milk in, a-hanging behind the shed-door--I guess they haven't valued
that yet."

"I think it's a shame!" quoth Ann. "I don't believe there's any need
of so much law."

"Hush, child! You mustn't set yourself up against the judgment of
your elders. Such things have to be done."

Ann said no more, but the indignant sparkle did not fade out of her
eyes at all. She watched her opportunity, and took down Mr. Wales'
old blue jacket from its peg behind the shed-door, ran with it up
stairs and hid it in her own room behind the bed. "There," said she,
"Mrs. Wales sha'n't cry over _that!_"

That night, at tea time, the work of taking the inventory was
complete. Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. White walked away with their long
lists, satisfied that they had done their duty according to the law.
Every article of Samuel Wales' property, from a warming pan to a
chest of drawers, was set down, with the sole exception of that old
blue jacket which Ann had hidden.

She felt complacent over it at first; then she begun to be uneasy.

"Nabby," said she confidentially to the old servant woman, when they
were washing the pewter plates together after supper, "what would
they do, if anybody shouldn't let them set down all the things--if
they hid some of 'em away, I mean?"

"T