WINNING HER WAY 



155 



know's it's any o' the neighbors' business, 

 's fer's that goes. I don't want her, that's 

 sure.'" 



Miss Betsey Peabody lived alone on the 

 old place where she was born forty-five 

 years before my story begins. She had 

 lived so long alone, afid got used to her 

 lonely way of living, that she was almost 

 upset by the thought of a change of any 

 kind coming into her life. She hired a 

 man by the year to work the place, but he 

 had a family, and occupied an old house 

 a little way down the road from Miss 

 Betty's, therefore ^'liavin'" him 'round," as 

 she expressed it, "wasn't like bein' both- 

 ered with a man that couldn't be got rid 

 of." She "bossed things," the neighbors 

 said. Perhaps it was well that she did, 

 for she was a good manager, and the farm 

 under her management paid better than 

 it might if she had left the "bossing" to 

 the hired man. Her lonely life had made 

 her unsocial, and she had grown to be 

 cross and irritable. All the children in 

 the neighborhood stood in awe of her. 

 Few of her old neighbors felt free to visit 

 her. ^ She seldom went anywhere. "She's 

 jest shet up in a shell, like a snappin'- 

 turkle," Uncle Si said. "Sometimes she'll 

 run her head out long enough to snap, 

 but that's 'bout all. I swan, I don't -see 

 how she gets much good out o' livin'. I 

 don't call it livin' — jest stay in'." 



As Uncle Si drove along he could not 

 help fpoling a genuine pity for the poor 

 little** girl thrown so suddenly on the 

 charity of such a hard, unsympathetic 

 woman as Miss Betty, t 



"I shouldn't wonder if she'll wish she'd 

 died with her ma, 'fore she's been here a 

 great while," he said to Christopher, as 

 they went over the hill. "If Miss Betty 

 ever changes any, it'll have to be done by 

 a merricle. G'long, there, Christopher!" 



Ct-iaptee II. 

 Miss Betty's temper was not improved 

 by sleeping over the news contained in the 

 letter Uncle Si had brought. When John, 

 the hired man, came for instructions as 



to the work of the day he found her in 

 anything but a pleasant mood. This, how- 

 ever, was of such ordinary occurrence that 

 he was not at all surprised by it. 



"I don't s'pose I'll need a hired man 

 much longer," she said, as he started for 

 his work. "I guess I'm goin' to give up 

 farmin', an' start a 'sylum for orphans. 

 The first one'U be here 'most any day." 



John looked at her without asking any 

 questions. If she had anything to tell 

 she would tell it without being asked. If 

 she did not choose to tell it there was no 

 use in coaxing her. He had learned that. 



"I mean it," she said. "I'm goin' to 

 start into business right away. The 'sy- 

 lum'll be in full blast afore a week's past, 

 I s'pose. What kind of a matron do you 

 think I'll make ?" And Miss Betty laughed 

 such a hard, bitter laugh that there wa& 

 not a hint of merriment in ii. '^I declare^, 

 it makes me so mad when 1 think o' ha via' 

 to begin to bring up a young one at my 

 time o' life." Then, to relieve her angry 

 feeling, she told John about her letter. 



"I'm sorry," said John, as he started 

 for his work. "Sorry for the girl," he 

 added, as he passed out of hearing dis- 

 tance. "If she don't think she's in hard 

 luck, I ain't no prophet. I'd ruther be 

 brought up by cannibals than by her," 

 Avith a glance over his shoulder in the di- 

 rection of Miss Betty, who had seized a 

 hoe and was chopping off pursley with it 

 as ferociously as if each poor little weed 

 was an orphan that ought to be disposed 

 of as quickly as possible. 



After that she went into the house and 

 busied herself for an hour or two in put- 

 ting away all the best dishes on the top 

 shelves of the pantry. 



"Crockery ain't safe where a young one 

 can lay hands on it," she said. "A bull 

 in a china-shop ain't to be compared to 

 'em. Dear me ! I've a good mind to hire 

 her kep' som'ers. I can't bear the idee o' 

 havin' her 'round. But I s'pose I never'd 

 hear the last of it if I din't take her right 

 in, as if I was jest a-dyin' to have her. 

 Not that it's the neighbors' b'isness, or 



