But very often, during a voyage of discoveries through rooms that were seldom used, I passed various boxes, and awkward-looking little trunks, and curious baskets, that struck me as being particularly interesting in appearance.  But Aunt Henshaw always said:  “Those are Statia’s—­we must not touch them,” and passed quickly on, without in the least indulging my excited curiosity.  Whether Cousin Statia kept wild animals, or mysterious treasures, or old clothes, in all these places, I was unable to conclude; but I determined to find out if possible.  Having one day accompanied her upstairs, she proceeded to unlock a large trunk which I had always regarded with longing eyes; and opening them very wide, that I might take in as much as possible in a hasty survey, what was my disappointment to see her take out a couple of linen pillow-cases, nicely ruffled, while at least a dozen or two more remained, together with a corresponding number of sheets, table-cloths, napkins, &c.!  All of home-made manufacture, and seeming to my youthful ideas enough to last a life-time.  What could Cousin Statia possibly do with all these things?  Or what had she put them there for?  I knew that Aunt Henshaw possessed inexhaustible stores, and I could not imagine why Cousin Statia found it necessary to have her’s separate.  I pondered the matter over for two or three days, and then concluded to apply to Holly for information on the desired point.

“Why, lor bless you!” said the colored girl in a mysterious manner, “Didn’t you know that Miss Statia has been crossed in love?”

Holly announced this fact as a sufficiently explanatory one; but I could not comprehend what connection there was between being crossed in love, and a large trunk of bran new things.

“Why, I quite pities your ignorance, Miss Amy!  In old times,” continued my informant, as though dwelling on her own particular virtue in this respect, “in old times people didn’t used to be half so lazy as they am now-a-days, and thought nothing at all of sewing their fingers to the bone, or spinning their nails off, or knittin’ forever; and when gals growed up, and had any thoughts of gittin’ married, they set to work and made hull trunks full of things, and people used to call them spinsters.  Now Miss Statia has been fillin’ trunks and baskets ever sense she could do anything, so that she’s got a pretty likely stock—­but no one ever came along this way but what was married already, and that’s the meanin’ of bein’ crossed in love.  But don’t for your life go to tellin’ nobody—­they’d most chop my head off, if it should come out.”

I asked Holly how she had ascertained the fact; “Oh,” she replied, knowingly, “there ain’t much that escapes me.  I know pretty much every article in this house, and hear whatever’s goin’ on.  Key-holes is a great convenience; and though it ain’t very pleasant to be squatin’ in cold entries, and fallin’ in the room sometimes, when people open the door without no warnin’, yet I’m often there when they think I’m safe in the kitchin.  Miss Statia once boxed my ears and sent me to bed, when she happened to ketch me listinin’; but it didn’t smart much, and people can’t ’spect to gather roses without thistles.”