after year?" said Mrs. Pryor, who alone was industriously sewing.
"But that's Gibbie Gault. From the time she was born she has snapped
her fingers at other people, and, if it's possible to do a thing
differently from the way others do it, she will do it that way or--"

"Make them do it. I never will forget the day she marched Beth's boys
through the streets and locked them up in her house." Mrs. Tate pointed
her needle, which had been unthreaded all the morning, at Mrs. Moon.
"Funniest thing I ever saw. Remember it, Beth?"

"Remember? I should think I did." Mrs. Moon smiled quietly. "I have
long seen the funny side, but it took me long to see it. Nobody but
Miss Gibbie would have done it."

"Please tell me about it, Mrs. Moon," said Mrs. Burnham, who was still
something of a stranger in Yorkburg. "Every now and then I hear
references to Miss Gibbie Gault's graveyard, and to the way she once
got ahead of your boys, and I've often wanted to ask about it. Is there
really a graveyard at Tree Hill, and is the gate bricked up so that
no one can get in?"

"It certainly is." Mrs. Moon laughed. There isn't very much to tell.
Everybody knows about the old Bloodgood graveyard at Tree Hill in which
Miss Gibbie's parents and grandparents and great-grandparents are
buried. Her mother was a Bloodgood; and everybody knows, also, that
since the Yankee soldier, who died during the war at Judge Gault's
house, was buried there the gate has been bricked up and nobody has
ever been inside but Miss Gibbie and Jackson who cuts the grass."

"But how does she get in?" Mrs. Burnham's voice was puzzled inquiry.