Collins. "I bound you let folks know she was here. If you jest had sense
enough to keep yo' mouth shet, Peter Collins! That long tongue of yours
goin' to be the ruin of you yet."
"I ain't unparted my lips," asserted her husband.
"Now ain't that jest like a man?" Mrs. Collins demanded of the clock.
"'Stead of trying to throw folks off the track, saying something like
'What on earth's a lost child doing here?' or 'Nobody'd 'spect a lost
child to come to my house!'"
"I wish you'd been thar, Lizbeth," said her admiring husband. "You'd
fixed it up. Well, anyhow, I ain't said a word, so don't nobody know
nothin' from me. All she's got to do is to lay low till this hub-bub's
over."
In that out-of-the-way place there seemed little danger of Anne's being
discovered. Mrs. Collins, however, made elaborate plans for her
concealment.
"Anne," she said, "would you mind me callin' you my niece Polly?"
Anne looked at her in questioning surprise.
"If so be people from the 'sylum was to look for you, you wouldn't want
to go back thar, would you?"
"Oh, no! I'd much rather stay here," answered Anne.
"Bless your heart! and so you shall," exclaimed Mrs.
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