Soon the trio of visitors departed. Old Sam was smoking a last pipe when a knock came to the door. He opened it to find Andrew Cutler without. 

 "What's this I hear about your mare?" he asked.  "Is she dead?" 

 "Yes—couldn't seem to do anything for her," said old Sam, and brave as he was, his tone was somewhat disheartened. 

 "Well, it's too bad, she was a good beast. Better have my little bay till you look about for another," said Andrew. 

 Old Sam's face lightened.  "I'll be glad to," he answered.  "There's the orchard field to plough and I'm behindhand already, but"—his old pride forbidding him to accept too eagerly—"don't you need him?" 

 "No, not a bit," said Andrew.  "Indeed, I'll be glad if you take him awhile. He's getting above himself." 

 "Well, I'll come along for him in the morning, then," said Sam, relieved.  "What have you been doing to-day?" 

 "Sowing buckwheat in the clearing, and went to town with some mending," replied Andrew. "I'm just getting home." 

 "How does the clearing look?" asked Sam. "Free of water?" 

 "Yes, it's in good condition." 

 "Hiram Green says that there's a boarder up to the Morris place. Did you see anything of it?" 

 "Man or woman?" asked Andrew, with sudden interest. 

 "Hiram didn't say. I took it was a man."  (Andrew's heart sank.)  "Suse, did Hiram Green say 'twas a man or a woman had come to board with old Mrs. Morris?" 

 "He didn't say," called Suse from an inner room. 

 "Well, it's a lonely place to choose, isn't it?" said Andrew.  "Good-night, Mr. Symmons." 

 "Good-night, good-night. Thank you kindly," said old Sam. 

 The old mare was buried next day in one of Sam's barren fields. 

 "Did you get the shoes off her?" Mr. Horne asked as he encountered old Sam returning from the obsequies with an earthy spade over his rounding shoulders. 

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