The two little girls were very close friends, and were together all
the time which they could snatch out of school hours. Not long after
the presentation of the sixpence, one night after school, Patience's
mother wanted her to go on an errand to Nancy Gookin's hut.

Nancy Gookin was an Indian woman, who did a good many odd jobs for the
neighbors. Mrs. Mather was expecting company, and she wanted her to
come the next day and assist her about some cleaning.

Patience was usually willing enough, but to-night she demurred. In
fact, she was a little afraid of the Indian woman, who lived all alone
in a little hut on the edge of some woods. Her mother knew it, but it
was a foolish fear, and she did not encourage her in it.

"There is no sense in your being afraid of Nancy," she said with some
severity. "She's a good woman, if she is an Injun, and she is always
to be seen in the meeting-house of a Sabbath day."

As her mother spoke, Patience could see Nancy's dark harsh old face
peering over the pew, where she and some of her nation sat together,
Sabbath days, and the image made her shudder in spite of its
environments. However, she finally put on her little sunbonnet and set
forth. It was a lovely summer twilight; she had only about a quarter
of a mile to go, but her courage failed her more and more at every
step. Martha Joy lived on the way. When she reached her house, she
stopped and begged her to go with her. Martha was obliging; under
ordinary circumstances she would have gone with alacrity, but to-night
she had a hard toothache. She came to the door with her face all tied
up in a hop-poultice. "I'm 'fraid I can't go," she said dolefully.