she had not ceased to ply during her talk; she remained a moment with
the quiescent fan pressed against her bosom, and then she stepped out
of the door, and down the walk to the gate. "Josiah!" she called,
while the old man looked and listened at the window. "Who you be'n
buryin'?"

The man halted his hearse, and answered briefly, "Mirandy Holcomb."

"Why, I thought the funeral wa'n't to be till tomorrow! Well, I
declare," said the woman, as she reentered the room and sat down again
in her rocking-chair, "I didn't ask him whether it was Mr. Goodlow
or Mr. Baldwin preached the sermon. I was so put out hearin' it was
Mirandy, you might say I forgot to ask him anything. Mirandy was
always a well woman till they moved down to the Mill Village and began
takin' the hands to board,--so many of 'em. When I think of Lyddy's
teachin' there another winter,--well, I could almost rejoice that she
was goin' away. She ain't a mite too strong as it is."

Here the woman paused, and the old man struck in with his quaint
treble while she fanned herself in silence: "I do suppose the voyage
is goin' to be everything for her health. She'll be from a month
to six weeks gettin' to Try-East, and that'll be a complete change of
air, Mr. Goodlow says. And she won't have a care on her mind the whole
way out. It'll be a season of rest and quiet. I did wish, just for
the joke of the thing, as you may say, that the ship had be'n goin'
straight to Venus, and Lyddy could 'a' walked right in on 'em at
breakfast, some morning. I should liked it to be'n a surprise. But
there wa'n't any ship at Boston loadin' for Venus, and they didn't
much believe I'd find one at New York. So I just took up with the
captain of the Aroostook's offer. He says she can telegraph to her