Somebody go save my bedstid!'" "And was it saved ?" asked Hilda, laughing.
"No," said the farmer; "'t wa'n't wuth savin', nohow.

Besides, if't _hed_ been, she'd ha' gone back to it an' stayed there.

Hosy Grout, who did her chores, kicked it into the fire; an' she was a well woman to the day of her death." Now the houses straggled farther and farther apart, and at last the village was fairly left behind.

Old Nancy pricked up her ears and quickened her pace a little, looking right and left with glances of pleasure as the familiar fields ranged themselves along either side of the road.

Hilda too was glad to be in the free country again, and she looked with delight at the banks of fern, the stone walls covered with white starry clematis, and the tangle of blackberry vines which made the pleasant road so fragrant and sweet.