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"And this bitter weather, too! Oh, Keziah, what did thee do?" asked Mrs. Coffin, in a tearful voice. Widdrinton, an' then I hild up, for I ketchcd a sight of his face, an' I thought he wuz gone for sartin. He wuz as cold an' as white as that 'ere snow, an' it warn't till I'd felt of his heart an' foun' that it beat a little that I thought of sich a thing as his comin' to.
I am glad to see thee. Take a seat by the fire, and warm thee after thy cold walk." "I can't stop a minit; but it's as cheap settin' as stannin', I do suppose," replied the widow, with a nervous little laugh, as she seated herself in the proffered chair upon the clean red hearth, and commenced her business by saying, "I was wantin' to speak with you, Mr. Coffin, about poor Mr. Widdrinton."
"I will promise you very solemnly, however," continued she, "that I will neither look at yonder thing nor allow any one else to do so; and you will be wrong to doubt my word." "I don't. What is your name?" "Faith." "A good omen. Mine is Ichabod." "Ichabod Widdrinton?" "Ichabod. Call me so, all of you." "Very well, if it is your name, we will. Now you must go to sleep."
"Widdrinton, who's he?" inquired Phineas. "Waal," commenced the widow, settling herself in her chair, and assuming the air of one who has a story to narrate. "You know I have my thirds in the house my poor husband left. "But that a'n't nyther here nor there. What I was a-comin' to was this. Ruther better 'n a year ago, a man come to me and wanted to know ef I used all my rooms.
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