"
"But who is _she_?"
"You'd better ask _him_."
Seeing there was nothing to be got out of her, I went down to the
stream, washed my face, dried it with my pocket-handkerchief, and then
looked after Peck. He gave a shrill whinny of recognition, and, I
thought, seemed to be a little restless. A fresh feed of corn was in the
old basket, and presently the man came into the stable with a bunch of
hay, and commenced rubbing off the marks of Peck's oozy couch which were
left on his flanks. As we went back to the shanty I noticed that he
eyed me furtively, without daring to look me full in the face. As I was
apparently none the worse for the night's experiences, he rallied at
last, and ventured to talk _at_, as well as to, me.
By this time, breakfast, which was a repetition of supper, was ready,
and we sat down to the table. During the meal, it occurred to me to make
an experimental remark. Turning suddenly to the man, I asked,--
"Is your name Eber Nicholson?"
"There!" exclaimed the woman, "I knowed he'd heerd it!"
He, however, flushing a moment, and then becoming move sallow than ever,
nodded first, and then--as if that were not sufficient--added, "Yes,
that's my name.
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