"Ithuriel Butters is a singular man, Mis' Tree--he give me a turn just
now, he did so. I says, 'How's Miss Butters now, Ithuriel?' I knew she'd
been real poorly, but I hadn't heard for a considerable time.
"'I ain't no notion,' says he.
"'What do you mean, Ithuriel Butters?' I says.
"'Just what I say,' says he.
"'Why, where is she?' I says. I thought she might be visitin', you know.
She has consid'able kin 'round here.
"'I ain't no idee,' says he. 'I lef her in the burying ground, that's
all I know.'
"Mis' Tree, that woman has been dead a month and I never knew a single
word about it. They're all singular people, them Butterses."
Just then there was a ring at the door bell and Direxia shuffled away to
answer it; then a man's voice was heard asking some questions. Mrs. Tree
sat alive and alert and called:
"Direxia!"
"Yes'm. Jest a minit. I'm seein' to something."
"Direxia Hawkes!"
"How you do pester me, Mis' Tree; there's a man at the door and I don't
want to let him stay there alone."
"What does he look like?"
"I don't know, he's a tramp, if he's nothing worse.
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