Page:New Hampshire (Frost, 1923).djvu/75

Rh  We were about it one night in the cellar. Son knows the story: but 'twas not for him To tell the truth, suppose the time had come. Son lodes surprised to see me end a lie We'd kept all these years between ourselves So as to have it ready for outsiders. But tonight I don't care enough to lie— I don't remember why I ever cared. Toffile, if he were here, I don't believe Could tell you why he ever cared himself

She hadn't found the finger-bone she wanted Among the buttons poured out in her lap. I verified the name next morning: Toffile. The rural letter-box said Toffile Lajway.





OW that they've got it settled whose I be, I'm going to tell them something they won't like: They've got it settled wrong, and I can prove it. Flattered I must be to have two towns fighting To make a present of me to each other. They don't dispose me, either one of them, To spare them any trouble. Double trouble's Always the witch's motto anyway. I'll double theirs for both of them—you watch me. They'll find they've got the whole thing to do over, That is, if facts is what they want to go by. They set a lot (now don't they?) by a record Of Arthur Amy's having once been up For Hog Reeve in March Meeting here in Warren. 