Now Mistress Kitty Fagan was devoted, heart and soul, to Myrtle Hazard, and ever since she had received the young girl from Mr. Gridley’s hands, when he brought her back safe and sound after her memorable adventure, had considered him as Myrtle’s best friend and natural protector.  These simple creatures, whose thoughts are not taken up, like those of educated people, with the care of a great museum of dead phrases, are very quick to see the live facts which are going on about them.  Mr. Gridley had met her, more or less accidentally, several times of late, and inquired very particularly about Myrtle, and how she got along at the house since her return, and whether she was getting over her headaches, and how they treated her in the family.

“Bliss your heart, Mr. Gridley,” Kitty said to him on one of these occasions, “it’s ahltogither changed intirely.  Sure Miss Myrtle does jist iverythin’ she likes, an’ Miss Withers niver middles with her at ahl, excip’ jist to roll up her eyes an’ look as if she was the hid-moorner at a funeril whiniver Miss Myrtle says she wants to do this or that, or to go here or there.  It’s Miss Badlam that’s ahlwiz after her, an’ a-watchin’ her,—­she thinks she’s cunnin’er than a cat, but there ‘s other folks that’s got eyes an’ ears as good as hers.  It’s that Mr. Bridshaw that’s a puttin’ his head together with Miss Badlam for somethin’ or other, an’ I don’t believe there’s no good in it, for what does the fox an’ the cat be a whisperin’ about, as if they was thaves an’ incind’ries, if there ain’t no mischief hatchin’?”

“Why, Kitty,” he said, “what mischief do you think is going on, and who is to be harmed?”

“O Mr. Gridley,” she answered, “if there ain’t somebody to be chated somehow, then I don’t know an honest man and woman from two rogues.  An’ have n’t I heard Miss Myrtle’s name whispered as if there was somethin’ goin’ on agin’ her, an’ they was afraid the tahk would go out through the doors, an’ up through the chimbley?  I don’t want to tell no tales, Mr. Gridley, nor to hurt no honest body, for I’m a poor woman, Mr. Gridley, but I comes of dacent folks, an’ I vallies my repitation an’ character as much as if I was dressed in silks and satins instead of this mane old gown, savin’ your presence, which is the best I ‘ve got, an’ niver a dollar to buy another.  But if I iver I hears a word, Mr. Gridley, that manes any kind of a mischief to Miss Myrtle,—­the Lard bliss her soul an’ keep ahl the divils away from her!—­I’ll be runnin’ straight down here to tell ye ahl about it,—­be right sure o’ that, Mr. Gridley.”

“Nothing must happen to Myrtle,” he said, “that we can help.  If you see anything more that looks wrong, you had better come down here at once and let me know, as you say you will.  At once, you understand.  And, Kitty, I am a little particular about the dress of people who come to see me, so that if you would just take the trouble to get you a tidy pattern of gingham or calico, or whatever you like of that sort for a gown, you would please me; and perhaps this little trifle will be a convenience to you when you come to pay for it.”