"No, hi'm a vidder. What's more, hi'm cold, and drippin', an' 'ungry. Hi
might 'a' better stayed at the poor-us than come to a place like this."

"What!" almost screamed Mrs. Mumpson, "are you a pauper?"

"Hi tell ye hi'm a vidder, an' good as you be, for hall he said," was the
sullen reply.

"To think that a respecterbly connected woman like me--" But for once Mrs.
Mumpson found language inadequate. Since Mrs. Wiggins occupied the rocking
chair, she hardly knew what to do and plaintively declared, "I feel as if my
whole nervous system was giving way."

"No 'arm 'll be done hif hit does," remarked Mrs. Wiggins, who was not in an
amiable mood.

"This from the female I'm to superintend!" gasped the bewildered woman.

Her equanimity was still further disturbed by the entrance of the farmer, who
looked at the stove with a heavy frown.

"Why in the name of common sense isn't there a fire?" he asked, "and supper on
the table? Couldn't you hear that it was raining and know we'd want some
supper after a long, cold ride?"

"Mr. Holcroft," began the widow, in some trepidation, "I don't approve--such
irregular habits--"

"Madam," interrupted Holcroft sternly, "did I agree to do what you approved
of? Your course is so peculiar that I scarcely believe you are in your right