"You didn't think I meant it, did ye?--that you would have to go 'way
from here?"

"I don't know," was my answer.

"Course I didn't mean that. I just wanted ye to see that it wa'n't goin'
to do for you to keep on tippin' things over so."

I sat telling them of my adventures and answering questions, flattered
by their tender interest, until milking time. I thoroughly enjoyed all
that. When I rose to go out with Uncle Peabody, Aunt Deel demanded my
shoes.

"Take 'em right off," said she. "It ain't a goin' to do to wear 'em
common--no, sir-ee! They're for meetin' or when company comes--ayes!"

I regretfully took off the shoes and gave them to her, and thereafter
the shoes were guarded as carefully as the butternut trousers.

That evening as I was about to go up-stairs to bed, Aunt Deel said to my
uncle:

"Do you remember what ol' Kate wrote down about him? This is his first
peril an' he has met his first great man an' I can see that Sile Wright
is kind o' fond o' him."

I went to sleep that night thinking of the strange, old, ragged, silent
woman.