“I set down by Hetty; and the old woman bein’ as deaf as a post, it was as good as if I’d been there alone.  So I mustered up my courage, that was sinkin’ down to my boots, and told Hetty my plans, and asked her to go along.  She never said nothin’ for a minute; she flushed all up as red as a rose, and I see her little fingers was shakin’, and her eye-winkers shiny and wet; but she spoke presently, and said,—­

“‘I can’t, Eben!’

“I was shot betwixt wind and water then, I tell you, Doctor!  ’Twa’n’t much to be said, but I’ve allers noticed afloat that real dangersome squalls comes on still; there’s a dumb kind of a time in the air, the storm seems to be waitin’ and holdin’ its breath, and then a little low whisper of wind,—­a cat’s paw we call’t,—­and then you get it real ’arnest.  I’d rather she’d have taken on, and cried, and scolded, than have said so still, ‘I can’t, Eben.’

“‘Why not, Hetty?’ says I.

“‘I ought not to leave grandmother,’ said she.

“I declare, I hadn’t thought o’ that!  Miss Buel was a real infirm woman without kith nor kin, exceptin’ Hetty; for Jason Buel he’d died down to Jersey long before; and she hadn’t means.  Hetty nigh about kept ’em both since Miss Buel had grown too rheumatic to make cheese and see to the hens and cows, as she used to.  They didn’t keep any men-folks now, nor but one cow; Hetty milked her, and drove her to pastur’, and fed the chickens, and braided hats, and did chores.  The farm was all sold off; ’twas poor land, and didn’t fetch much; but what there was went to keep ‘em in vittles and firin’.  I guess Hetty ’arnt most of what they lived on, arter all.

“‘Well,’ says I, after a spell of thinkin’, ’can’t she go along too, Hetty?’

“’Oh, no, Eben! she’s too old; she never could get there, and she never could live there.  She says very often she wouldn’t leave Simsbury for gold untold; she was born here, and she’s bound to die here.  I know she wouldn’t go.’

“‘Ask her, Hetty!’

“’No, it wouldn’t be any use; it would only fret her always to think I staid at home for her, and you know she can’t do without me.’

“‘No more can’t I,’ says I.  ‘Do you love her the best, Hetty?’

“I was kinder sorry I’d said that; for she grew real white, and I could see by her throat she was chokin’ to keep down somethin’.  Finally she said,—­

“’That isn’t for me to say, Eben.  If it was right for me to go with you, I should be glad to; but you know I can’t leave grandmother.’

“Well, Doctor, I couldn’t say no more.  I got up to go.  Hetty put down her work and walked to the big ellum by the gate with me.  I was most too full to speak, but I catched her up and kissed her soft little tremblin’ lips, and her pretty eyes, and then I set off for home as if I was goin’ to be hanged.