"I'm keeping school," said she. "School can't keep without me. And I'm
going over to Sudleigh, every Saturday, to take elocution lessons. I'm
having my own way, and I'm happy as a clam. Now, why can't you come and
live with me? You said you would, the very day aunt Eliza died."
"I know I did," owned the visitor, lowering her voice, and casting a
glance over her shoulder. "But I never had an idea then how Mary Ellen
'd feel about it. She said she wouldn't live in this town, not if she
was switched. I dunno why she's so ag'in' it, but she seems to be, an'
there 't is!"
"Why, aunt Luceba!" Isabel had left her position to draw forward a
chair. "What's that?" She pointed to the foot of the lounge, where,
half hidden in shadow, stood a large, old-fashioned blue chest.
"'Sh! that's it! that's what I come for. It's her chist."
"Whose?"
"Your aunt 'Liza's." She looked Isabel in the face with an absurd
triumph and awe. She had done a brave deed, the nature of which was not
at once apparent.
"What's in it?" asked Isabel, walking over to it.
"Don't you touch it!" cried her aunt, in agitation. "I wouldn't have
you meddle with it--But there! it's locked. I al'ays forgit that. I
feel as if the things could git out an' walk.
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