Mrs. Putnam was evidently in a bad temper, and Samanthy had learned by years of experience to keep a close mouth under such circumstances, so she waited for Mrs. Putnam’s next words without replying.  Finally Mrs Putnam spoke.  “I wish you’d bring up some wood and start a fire, the room’s kinder cold.”

When Samanthy reached the kitchen she found Lindy there.

“Why, Miss Lindy,” said she, “what are you up so early for?”

“I heard mother pounding and I thought she might be sick.”

“She is awful sick,” rejoined Samanthy; “I never saw her look so poorly afore; she seems to be all choked up.  She wants a big mustard plaster and a fire up in her room, and I don’t know which to do fust.  Oh!” she cried, “I must comb my hair before I go back;” and she wet a brush and commenced brushing out her long brown hair, which, with her rosy cheeks, formed her two principal claims to good looks.

“Sit down,” said Lindy, “and I’ll fix your hair up much quicker than you can do it yourself.”

“And much better, too,” added Samanthy thankfully.

“While you’re building the fire,” continued Lindy, “I’ll mix up the mustard plaster.”

When Samanthy entered the chamber with the materials for the fire, Mrs. Putnam opened her eyes and said sharply, “Did yer bring that plaster?”

“No,” said Samanthy, “I thought I would build the fire fust.”

“Wall,” said Mrs. Putnam, “I want the plaster fust, and you go right down stairs and mix it up quick.”

When Samanthy returned to the kitchen she found that Lindy had the plaster all ready.  Samanthy took it, and started upstairs.

Lindy said to her, “Don’t tell her that I made it.”  As she said this she stepped back into the kitchen and closed the door.

As Samanthy approached the bedside with the plaster, Mrs. Putnam looked up and asked, “Did you make that plaster, Samanthy?”

“Yes’m,” replied Samanthy.

“You’re lyin’, Samanthy Green, and you know yer are.  You can’t fool me.  Didn’t I hear yer talkin’ to somebody in the kitchen?”

“Yes’m,” assented Samanthy.

“Wall,” rejoined Mrs. Putnam, “of course I know who it wuz yer wuz talkin’ to.  Did she make the plaster?”

“Yes’m,” again assented Samanthy.

“Give it to me,” said Mrs. Putnam.

Samanthy passed it to her, and the old lady crumpled it in her hand’s and threw it across the room.  “Now go down stairs, Samanthy Green, and make me a mustard plaster, as I told yer to, and when I git up outer this I’ll see if I can’t git somebody to wait on me that kin tell the truth ‘thout my havin’ to help ’em.”

In the course of half an hour the new plaster was made and applied, and a bright fire was shedding its warmth into the room.

“Go down stairs and git yer breakfast,” said Mrs. Putnam. “’Tis a trifle early, but I hearn tell that lyin’ makes people hungry.”