turned to ridicule: "Folks'll say you're marryin' him 'cause you
expect he'll make money on his ghost-machine!"

"Well, you tell 'em I don't believe in ghosts. That'll settle
_that_."

"If folks knew you didn't believe in any hereafter, they'd say you was
a wicked woman!" cried Mrs. Butterfield, angrily;--"an' that fool
machine--"

"I never said I didn't believe in a hereafter. Course his machine
ain't sense. That's what makes it so pitiful."

"He'll never finish it."

"Course he won't. That's why I'm takin' him."

"Well, my _sakes!_" said Mrs. Butterfield, helplessly. And then,
angrily again, "Course if you set out to go your own way, I suppose
you don't expect no help from them as thinks you are all wrong?"

"I do not," Lizzie said, steadily; and then a spark glinted in her
leaf-brown eye: "Folks that have means, and yet would let that poor
unfortunate be taken to the Farm--I wouldn't expect no help from 'em."

"Well, Mis' Graham, you can't say I ain't warned you."

"No, Mis' Butterfield, I can't," Lizzie responded; and the two old
friends parted stiffly.