to know something. I ain't curious, but I've heard so many stories
about it that I'd really like to know the truth of it once. Somebody
was speakin' about it the other day, an' it don't seem right for
stories to be goin' the rounds when there ain't no truth in 'em. Mis'
Field, what was it set Edward Maxwell's father agin' him?" Mrs.
Babcock's voice sank to a whisper, she leaned farther forward, and
gazed at Mrs. Field with crafty sweetness.

Mrs. Field looked out of the window.

"Well, I s'pose it was some trouble about money matters."

"Money matters?"

"Yes, I s'pose so."

"Mis' Field, _what did he do?"_

Mrs. Field did not reply. She looked out of the window at the green
banks in front. Her face was inscrutable.

Mrs. Babcock drew herself up. "Course I don't want you to tell me
nothin' you don't want to," said she, with injured dignity. "I ain't
pryin' into things that folks don't want me to know about; it wa'n't
never my way. All is, I thought I'd like to know the truth of it,
whether there was anything in them stories or not."

"Oh, I'd jest as soon tell you," rejoined Mrs. Field quietly. "I was
jest a-thinkin'. As near as I can tell you, Mis' Babcock, Edward's
father he let him have some money, and Edward he speculated with it