"Knows all that's goin' on--that woman--knows who goes to the village an' how long they stay.

When Grimshaw goes by they say she hustles off down the road in her rags.

She looks like a sick dog herself, but I've heard that she keeps that room o' hers just as neat as a pin." Near the village we passed a smart-looking buggy drawn by a spry-footed horse in shiny harness.

Then I noticed with a pang that our wagon was covered with dry mud and that our horses were rather bony and our harnesses a kind of lead color.

So I was in an humble state of mind when we entered the village.