to have the child brought on to New York for him to see. I suppose
Cousin Fanny turned beggar, and asked him. I know she told him the child
was the daughter of "a friend" of hers (a curious sort of friend Scroggs was,
a drunken creature, who had done everything he could to pain her),
and she took a great deal of trouble to get her to the train,
lending old Fashion to haul her, which was a great deal more
than lending herself; and the doctor treated her in New York for three months
without any charge, till, I believe, the child got better.
Old maids do not mind giving people trouble.

She hung on at the old place as long as she could, but it had to be sold,
and finally she had to leave it; though, I believe, even after it was sold
she tried boarding for a while with Scroggs, the former tenant,
who had bought it. He treated her so badly that finally she had to leave,
and boarded around. I believe the real cause was she caught him ploughing
with old Fashion.

After that I do not know exactly what she did. I heard that though
the parish was vacant she had a Sunday-school at the old church,
and so kept the church open; and that she used to play the wheezy old organ
and teach the poor children the chants; but as they grew up they all joined
another Church; they had a new organ there. I do not know just how
she got on. I was surprised to hear finally that she was dead --
had been dead since Christmas. It had never occurred to me
that she would die. She had been dying so long that I had almost come
to regard her as immortal, and as a necessary part of the old county
and its associations.

I fell in some time afterwards with a young doctor from the old county,
who, I found, had attended her, and I made some inquiries about her.