"
Peter went to a window, while Ab was watching the movement of the loom,
and looked across the fields. Suddenly the others heard him utter an
ejaculation of profound astonishment. The loom ceased its monotonous
thumping, and all eyes turned on him.
"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Lithicum, her round, red face full of
curiosity.
"I'll bet narry one o' you could make a good guess."
They knew him too well to expect information from him, so they all
started for the window. Mrs. Lithicum reached it first. "As I'm
alive!" she cried. "Mis' Dawson's got back. She's gettin' out uv a
wagon down at 'er cabin."
"Well, I 'lowed she wouldn't always be gallivantin' about heer and
yan," said the weaver, as she peered over the shoulder of her guest.
"I reckon they've all got tired of 'er over thar an' sent 'er home."
Mrs. Lithicum followed the speaker back to the loom. "Well, I don't
know but I'm a leetle grain sorry," she said.
"Sorry!" repeated the sister of the person under discussion. "I don't
see what thar railly is to be sorry about."
Mrs. Lithicum looked as if she had got her foot into it, and she
flushed, but she had her defence ready.
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