"Yes, we are all very well," was the answer usually.

"Well, then, I spose you've nothin' agin my havin' your kittle this
arternoon. I expect Deacon Fish and his wife, and tew darters to an
arely tea; and I'm kind o' used to that ere kittle o' yourn, and
can't somehow git along without it; and I han't yet got none of my
own, you see."

She, of course, always had me to entertain her company; she knew she
should get me; and, as she went away, she always said something
about how pleasant and right it was to be neighborly.

After a few years, some one of her relations gave her a nice tea-
kettle. She brought it in to show to my mistress. I was hissing away
at the time for breakfast, which was hardly over when she entered.
After she had shown her kettle to every one, and satisfied herself
that it would bear a comparison with me, she said,--

"Now, at last, I've got a kittle o' my own; and I'll never borry nor
lend agin as long as I live in this here vale o' tears."

Not long after this, a careless girl left my rival on the fire till
the bottom was burned through, and the kettle was ruined.

The next time the good woman came, her speech ran somewhat thus; "I
spose you was to meetin' last Sabbath."

"Yes."