Mrs. Marshall looked up at her husband’s sister, smiled, and went on,—­Sylvia recognized the story as one of her own old favorites.  “Well, it was very early dawn when she had to go over to the neighbor’s to borrow some medicine for her father, who kept getting sicker all the time.  As she hurried along across the meadow towards the stile, she kept wondering, in spite of herself, if there was any truth in what Nat had said about having seen bear tracks near the house the day before.  When she got to the stile she ran up the steps—­and on the top one she stood still, for there—­” She made a dramatic pause and reached for another tray of tomatoes.  Arnold stopped stirring the pot and stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the narrator, the spatula dripping tomato-juice all along his white trousers.  “There on the other side, looking up at her, was a bear—­a big black bear.”

Arnold’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.

“My grandmother was dreadfully frightened.  She was only seventeen, and she hadn’t any kind of a weapon, not so much as a little stick with her.  Her first idea was to turn and run as fast as she could, back home.  But she remembered how sick her father was, and how much he needed the medicine; and then besides, she used to say, all of a sudden it made her angry, all over, to have that great stupid animal get in her way.  She always said that nothing ‘got her mad up’ like feeling afraid.  So what do you suppose she did?”

Arnold could only shake his head silently in an ecstasy of impatience for the story to continue.  Judith and Sylvia smiled at each other with the insufferable complacence of auditors who know the end by heart.

“She just pointed her finger at the bear, and she said in a loud, harsh voice:  ‘Shame!  Shame!  Shame on you!  For sha-a-ame!’ She’d taught district school, you know, and had had lots of practice saying that to children who had been bad.  The bear looked up at her hard for a minute, then dropped his head and began to walk slowly away.  Grandmother always said, ’The great lummox lumbered off into the bushes like a gawk of a boy who’s been caught in mischief,’ She waited just a minute and then ran like lightning along the path through the woods to the neighbors and got the medicine.”

The story was evidently over, the last tomato was peeled.  Mrs. Marshall rose, wiping her stained and dripping hands on her apron, and went to the stove.  Arnold started as if coming out of a dream and looked about him with wondering eyes.  “Well, what-d’you-think-o’-that?” he commented, all in one breath.  “Say, Mother,” he went on, looking up at her with trusting eyes, searching the quiet face, “what do you suppose made the bear go away?  You wouldn’t think a little thing like that would scare a bear!”