"I am going to pacify you with some information in writing." "Why should you write it ?" Isabel asked suspiciously.
"Because I mean to make my own conditions, my dear, before I let you into the secret." In ten minutes more they were all three in the farmhouse parlor.

Nobody but the farmer's wife was at home.

The good woman trembled from head to foot at the sight of Old Sharon.

In all her harmless life she had never yet seen humanity under the aspect in which it was now presented to her.
"Mercy preserve us, Miss!" she whispered to Isabel, "how come you to be in such company as _that ?_" Instructed by Isabel, she produced the necessary materials for writing and sealing--and, that done, she shrank away to the door.

"Please to excuse me, miss," she said with a last horrified look at her venerable visitor; "I really can't stand the sight of such a blot of dirt as that in my nice clean parlor." With those words she disappeared, and was seen no more.
Perfectly indifferent to his reception, Old Sharon wrote, inclosed what he had written in an envelope; and sealed it (in the absence of anything better fitted for his purpose) with the mouthpiece of his pipe.
"Now, miss," he said, "you give me your word of honor,"-- he stopped and looked round at Moody with a grin--"and you give me yours, that you won't either of you break the seal on this envelope till the expiration of one week from the present day.