“I seed a lot, an’ I heard a lot,” the colored woman answered.  “Mike’s purty nigh starved, an’ does his own washin’.  An’ things are in that state in the house that would make you sick, Miss Panney, if you could see them.  What the rain doesn’t wash goes dirty; an’ as for that old cook they’ve got, if she isn’t drunk all the time, her mind’s givin’ way, an’ I expect she’ll end by pizenin’ all of them.  The vittles she gave me to eat, bein’ nearly tired to death when I got thar, was sich that they give me pains that I hain’t got over yit.  And what would have happened if I’d eat a full meal, nobody knows.”

“Get out with you,” cried Miss Panney.  “I don’t want any more of your jealousy and spite.  If that woman gave you anything to eat, I expect it was the only decently cooked thing you ever put into your mouth.  Did you see Mr. Haverley?  Were the Drane women still there?  How were they all getting on together?”

Phoebe’s eyes sparkled, and her voice took in a little shrillness.

“I was goin’ to git the minister to write you a letter ’bout that, Miss Panney,” said she; “but you didn’t tell me whar you was goin’, nor give me no money for stamps nor nothin’.  But I kin say to you now that that woman, which some people may call a cook, but I don’t, she told me, without my askin’ a word ‘bout nothin’, that Mr. Hav’ley an’ that little Miss Drane was to be married in the fall, an’ that they was goin’ away, all of them, to the wife’s mother’s to live, bein’ that that old farm out thar didn’t pay to run, an’ never would.  I reckoned they’d git sick of it afore this, which I always said.”

“Phoebe!” exclaimed Miss Panney, “I do not believe a word of all that!  How dare you tell me such a lot of lies?”

Phoebe was getting very angry, though she did not dare to show it; but instead of taking back anything she had said, she put on more lie-power.

“You may believe me, Miss Panney, or you needn’t; that’s just as you choose,” she said “but I can tell you more than I have told you, and that is, that from what I’ve seen and heard, I believe Mr. Hav’ley an’ Miss Drane is married already, an’ that they was only waitin’ for the Tolbridges to come home to send out the cards.”

Miss Panney glared at the woman.  “I tell you what I believe, and that is that you never went to Cobhurst at all.  You must tell me something, and you are making up the biggest story you can,” and with this she marched away.

“I reckon the next time she sends me on an arrand,” thought Phoebe, whose face would have been very red if her natural color had not interfered with the exhibition of such a hue, “she’ll send me in a hack, and pay me somethin’ for my time.  I was bound to tell her ’zactly what she didn’t want to hear, an’ I reckon I done it, an’ more’n that if she gets her back up ‘bout this, an’ goes out to Cobhurst, that old cook’ll find herself in hot water.  It was mighty plain that she was dreadful skeered for fear anybody would think thar was somethin’ goin’ on ’twixt them two.”