"I hain't seed
'er, nur I don't intend to, ef I kin git out of it."
When supper was ready they softly moved their chairs to their places
and sat down. Mrs. Slogan didn't eat heartily, but Peter's appetite
seemed normal. They had finished eating, Peter had secured his
toothpick from the broom, and they had moved back to the fireplace,
when they heard a stealthy step on the passage floor near the door.
The bolt was turned, the door shutter creaked and moved a few inches.
A hand came in sight, and something wrapped in brown paper was tossed
into the centre of the room. Then the steps receded, and they heard
the widow resume her chair.
Peter rose curiously and picked up the parcel, and bringing it to the
fire opened it. Its contents were a pair of woollen socks and a pair
of stockings of the same material. On the first had been worked a big
red letter "P" and on the other a capital "C."
"Did you ever?" gasped Mrs. Slogan. "I don't believe she's a bit more
crazy 'n I am."
"I never 'lowed she wus," said Peter, with a laugh. "I jest thought
she mought be harder to manage 'an you, that's all.
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