"But, Lizzie Graham! you ain't got the means."

"I can feed him."

"There's his clothes; why, my land--"

"I told Hiram Wells that if the town would see to his clothes, I'd do
the rest. They'd have to clothe him if he went to the Farm."

"Well," said Mrs. Butterfield, "I never in all my born days--Lizzie,
now _don't_. My goodness,--I--I ain't got no words! Why, his
victuals--"

"He ain't hearty. Sam Dyer told me he wa'n't hearty."

"Well, then, Sam Dyer had better feed him, 'stid o' puttin' it onto
you!"

Lizzie was silent. Then she said, with a short sigh, "Course if I
could 'a' just taken him in an' kep' him--but you said folks would
talk--"

"Well, I guess so. Course they'd talk--you know this place. You've
always been well thought of in Jonesville, but that would 'a' been the
end of you, far as bein' respectable goes."

"Well, you can't say this ain't respectable."

"No; I can't say it ain't respectable; but I can say it's the
foolishest thing I ever heard of. An' wrong too; 'cause anything