Sez I, “Your face has got a good color, and your eyes are bright.”  Sez I, “You hain’t enjoyin’ sech poor health as you did sometimes in Jonesville, be you?”

Sez she, “I never wuz so well before in my life!”

Sez I, “You’ve somehow got a different look onto you, Arvilly.”  Sez I, “Somehow, you look more meller and happy.”

“I be happy!” sez she.

Sez I, “I spoze you are still a-sellin’ the same old book, the ’Wild, Wicked, and Warlike Deeds of Man’?”

She kinder blushed, and, sez she, “No; I have took up a new work.”

“What is it?” sez I, for she seemed to kinder hang back from tellin’, but finally she sez, “It is the ’Peaceful, Prosperous, and Precious Performances of Man.’”

“Wall,” sez I, “I’m glad on’t.  Men should be walked round and painted on all sides to do justice to ’em.

“‘Im real glad that you’re a-goin’ to canvas on his better side, Arvilly.”

“Yes,” sez she, “men are amiable and noble creeters when you git to understand ’em.”

The change in her mean and her sentiments almost made my brain reel under my slate-colored straw bunnet, and my knees fairly trembled under my frame.

And, sez I, “Arvilly, explain to a old and true friend the change that has come onto you.”

So we withdrew our two selves to a sheltered nook, and there the story wuz onfolded to me in perfect confidence, and it must be kep. I will tell it in my own words, for she rambles a good deal in her talk, and that is, indeed, a fault in female wimmen.

Thank Heaven!  I hain’t got it.

It seems that when she sot out for the World’s Fair with the “Wild, Wicked, and Warlike Deeds of Man,” she had only a dollar in her pocket, but hoards and hoards of pluck and patience.

She canvassed along, a-walkin’ afoot—­some days a-makin’ nothin’ and bein’ clear discouraged, and anon makin’ a little sunthin’, and then agin makin’ first rate for a day or two, as the way of agents is.

Till one day about sundown—­she hadn’t seen a house for milds back—­she come to a little house a-standin’ back on the edge of a pleasant strip of woods.  A herd of sleek cows and some horses and some sheep wuz in pastures alongside of it, and a little creek of sparklin’ water run before it, and she went over a rustic bridge, up through a pretty front yard, into a little vine-shaded porch, and rapped at the door.

Nobody come; she rapped agin; nobody made a appearance.

But anon she hearn a low groanin’ and cryin’ inside.

So, bein’ at the bottom one of the kindest-hearted creeters in the world, but embittered by strugglin’ along alone, Arvilly opened the door and went in.  She went through a little parlor into the back room, and wuzn’t that a sight that met her eyes?

A good-lookin’ man of about Arvilly’s age laid there all covered with blood and fainted entirely away, and on his breast wuz throwed the form of a little lame girl all covered with blood, and a-cryin’ and a-groanin’ as if her heart would break.