CHAPTER XX.

WARNING.

KIT did her errands at the village store, gathered her parcels together, and, not without fear and trembling, prepared to set out on her homeward walk. At the door she found Abner Bassett with his father's team and wagon.

"Halloo, Kitty! Want a ride home?" was his cheery greeting. The offer of a ride was an ordinary civility; and Kit was a great favorite with the family at the mill, from Ma Bassett down to the latest baby. Kit gratefully accepted the offer, and climbed into the rattling lumber-wagon with as much pleasure as if it had been the finest coach in the land.

"I have to go round by Aunt Betsy's to take home her molasses-jug, so I can set you down right at your own gate," said Abner as he took his seat, and started up his horses. "Well, and how are you getting on at your house? Your uncle doesn't come to

Bible class any more?"

"No," said Kit sadly, "I can't coax him to come; but he lets me go, and he doesn't say a word against my going to Sunday school. Last Sunday he took

my library-book, and read it all through. That was nice, wasn't it?"

"Very," said Abner encouragingly. "I'll tell you what, Kitty next Sunday I'll pick out a real interesting book, and you shall take it home to him.”

"Oh, thank you! Perhaps he will come after a while, if he likes the books."

"Perhaps so. You love your uncle, don't you, Kitty?"

"Yes, I do," said Kit with emphasis. "Uncle Phin is always good to me when he doesn't drink, and he was always good to poor aunt Martha. It seems to me sometimes as if he was two men; and one man wanted to be good, and the other wouldn't let him. I don't know as you understand what I mean."

"Yes, I do : I've felt that way myself a good many times."

66

'Well, I can't help hoping that the good man will get the best of it some time," said Kit.

"We will all hope so," returned Abner.

for us.

"Here we are at Aunt Betsy's, and here she is looking out Now she will have something nice and pleasant to say. Can you hold the lines while I get out the parcels?"

"Oh, yes I am never afraid of horses," replied Kit. "When we lived in the Indian country I used to ride the ponies bare-backed.”

"Good for you! I'll give you a ride on my black colt some day. Halloo, Aunt Betsy! Here's your shopping."

Aunt Betsy appeared at the door, candle in hand. "Dear me, Abner! you needn't holler so. I never

did see such boys for yelling in all my born days. Seems to me it feels dread

Did you get the coffee?
ful light for half a pound.

Where's the molasses?

Now, you didn't go and forget that molasses-jug, Abner Bassett? There never was any thing like boys."

"Hold on, Aunt Betsy. The jug is in the wagon all safe. Here it is, you see; and here is some ham,

or something, Mrs. Andrews sent you."

"Why couldn't you say so, then?" snapped Aunt "Ham, is it? Just like Harriet Anne AnWhy couldn't she send me

Betsy

drews.

meat?"

some fresh

"On the whole, I believe it is beefsteak, and not ham, Aunt Betsy."

"There is a slice of ham in with the beef," observed Kit from her perch in the wagon.

"Yes, I dare say you looked at it. What business had you a-peeping and a-swooping into my parcels, Kit Mallory?"

"I didn't look into it," answered Kit indignantly. "I was in the kichen, and saw Mrs. Andrews do it up. She told me last Sunday she would give me some nice papers if I would come after them, so I did; and I had to wait a little, because she said she was just doing up some things for Aunt Betsy Burr."

"Yes, that's a likely story; not but that it would be just like Harriet Anne Andrews to tell everybody what she was doing. Well, there, I guess you've got every thing, for once. You can tell your ma, if she has got more plums than she wants, I should like a few to make sauce of."

"Aunt Betsy is rather worse than usual," said Abner as he drove away.

"What does make her so cross?" asked Kit. "Is it because she has had so much trouble?"

"She has never had any great trouble that I know of," replied Abner, "Her husband, Uncle Jonathan, was one of the best and kindest men that ever lived, and always waited on her like a slave; but he was not one of the kind that make money, and that vexed her. I do think she fairly worried the old man into his grave. Since then all the neighbors have looked after her and done for her; but she is never satisfied, and never would be, whatever they did." "I often think she must be lonesome living by herself so."

"Well, that is her fault too. body went to stay with her; but,

Lucinda Jane Peaafter she had tried

it a month, she told ma she would rather go and keep house for old Kettle on Indian Hill than stay with Mrs. Burr. And I am sure I would," concluded Abner. "The old Indian is good-natured, at any rate. Well, here we are, Kitty. Have you got all your papers? Good-night, and thank you for your company."

Kit had been in some measure diverted by Abner's chat and Aunt Betsy's scolding; but, as she climbed the somewhat long and steep ascent from the bars to the house, her fears returned upon her with double force; and it was with a very anxious and troubled face that she sought out Symantha, whom she found taking care of the milk.

"Well, Kit, did you have a nice walk, and get

your papers? Why, what ails you, child? You look as if you had seen a ghost."

"I have seen something worse," answered Kit in a low tone. "Symantha, what do you think! I have seen Gale again, and he was talking to Selina Weston."

"Are you sure?" asked Symantha.

"Just as sure as that I see you. I went down the brook-path; and, when I came round the corner, there he stood talking with Selina. I saw him shake hands with her."

"Impossible!"

"Yes, he was. He has got white hair and whiskers; but I should know him by his eyes and the shape of his face if he were to paint his face black." "What did you do?"

"I turned and ran till I came to the road; and then I waited for Selina, and told her who he was." "And what did she say?"

"She called me silly and impertinent, and said he was a gentleman from Boston that she had met in Oldbury. But I knew him well enough; and, what is more, I believe he knew me.”

"I hope not," said Symantha, evidently much discomposed. "I do wish I knew what was going on I believe that man is making a tool of father, and drawing him into some scrape."

"Then you believe it was Gale?

"Yes, Kit, I do, because I think I saw him myself down in our woods the day the steer was lost, — the day Selina Weston came home. He was dressed very smart, and had white hair, as you say; but I