leetle favor of him."

Ichabod had got back his breath and his composure now. He covered his
bald head with his hat, planted himself against the fence, his little,
twinkling eyes fixed on Trudy with an intense gaze, and continued his
story:

"Thar he set. And I walked in and I says to him, 'Air ye willin' to do
sump'n fer me, Mr. Doolittle?' And says he, 'Yes I be, Ichabod.' And
says I, 'It ain't goin' to take but jest a minute, Mr. Doolittle.' And
says he, 'Go ahead, Ichabod.'

"Says I, 'I was lookin' in the closet of the garret bed-room up to Mrs.
Spencer's house, whar I've been stayin', and I found a leetle box,
shoved 'way back, as though it wan't no use, anyhow. And, kind o'
hankerin' to know what 'twas, I broke it open. And thar was papers in
it,' says I-- 'and letters.

"'I can't read none myself,' says I-- 'only jest a leetle; but I looked
over them letters, and I worked and I figured, and I studied out a
leetle here and a leetle thar, till I begun to suspicion sump'n. Sump'n
awful quare--_awful quare!_ And this here one,' says I, 'I've fetched
down to ye, fer ye to jest look at. And if there ain't nothin' in it,'
says I, 'why, all right, and thank ye fer yer trouble. And if thar _is_
sump'n--' says I.

"And I handed him over that thar ole letter, and then I set still, and I
had my ole eyes glued right onto his face, and I ketched my breath and I
waited.