blude in yo--an it ull coom out, happen what may!'

'Hannah!' exclaimed Reuben, 'Hannah--mind yoursel.'

'My mither's _dead_,' said the child, slowly raising her dark,
burning eyes. 'My mither worn't bad; an if yo say she wor, yo're a
_beast_ for sayin it! I wish it wor yo wor dead, an my mither
wor here instead o' yo!'

To convey the concentrated rage of this speech is impossible. It
seemed to Hannah that the child had the evil eye. Even she quailed
under it.

'Go 'long wi yo,' she said grimly, in a white heat, while she
opened the door--'an the less yo coom into _my_ way for t'
future, the better.'

She pushed the child out and shut the door.

'Yo _are_ hard on her, Hannah!' exclaimed Reuben, in his
perplexity--pricked, too, as usual in his conscience.

The repetition of this parrot-cry, as it seemed to her, maddened
his wife.

'She's a wanton's brat,' she said violently; 'an she's got t'
wanton's blood.'

Reuben was silent. He was afraid of his wife in these moods. Hannah
began, with trembling hands, to pick up the contents of her