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Updated: June 1, 2025
Fabens, gazing from her favorite window upon the rich landscape in view, on the first day of the Week of Reality. "We are somewhat retired, and cannot see a great distance north or east from the house, but what we can see is so bound up with all my dearest feelings and pleasantest thoughts, I would not change it away for more pretending views from new situations.
"How soft and sleek its speckled coat!" adds another. "And how mild are its little eyes, and gentle as a sperit's," exclaims Mother Fabens. "Will they kill it?" do you inquire. Kill it? No! How could they lay a knife on that delicate throat? Its tender looks would soften a heart of stone, and insure its safety. But what will they do with the panting prisoner? Not let it go!
But then he looked a little honest, when he came in, and said he knew not how on earth it got there." "I don't believe he did know," said Fabens. "How easy it would have been for you; or whoever put up the goods, to have put that in by mistake." "Just so I told Fairbanks," said Frisbie; "and it must have got there in some such way.
Upon this, Frisbie rose and repeated his invitation to Fabens, to go over and see them, saying, as he left the door, that "he hoped Fairbanks would not be an old bachelor always, but get him a good wife, and have a home, and live like somebody, that ladies and gentlemen might visit him. But what do you think he says, when I jog him on the subject?
Fabens, glancing out on the green where the young people lingered in merriment: "even he seems to enjoy it with the rest. I am glad we invited him to stay and refresh himself, and share our happiness all he can. And I see he is already acquainted with several, and often smiles. But he frequently looks serious and absent, as though his mind was away.
One day when Fabens happened to stop at the tailor's, in the village, he thought to inquire into Frisbie's story, concerning the handkerchief, which he would have them believe George Ludlow had stolen. The tailor was positive in denying the truth of the whole affair. It was false, he said, and much like many other lies they had told.
I'm in a hurry," grumbled Bogle. "Wal, come back a minute a man broke his neck in a hurry. What you goin' to dew with Sculpin, eh? He hooked your log-chain, I heern," said Troffater. "I'm goin' to see Square Fabens agin to-morrow, and try and fetch the feller to justice. Sculpin may be sorry for this. I know what I ken prove," said Bogle. "I don't b'lieve the Square will try 'im.
And yet, the happy fortune to sustain his long administration, without having to confess a case of law had been brought to trial before him, was not reserved for Squire Fabens.
Fabens took a quicker rock in her chair and scratched her forehead with her knitting needle; and Fanny paused from her piecing to hear. "I mean in his confidence in men, and his free-heartedness, giving away what he has. He would share his last crust with an enemy, and he is so up and down honest himself, he believes the whole world honest and pure also."
Then they renewed the attack; and as old Spanker caught her by the leg, and she turned upon the dog in fury, Colwell put a ball through her head, and the fearful chase was over. "A narrow squeak for you, Fabens," said Wilson, "a very narrow squeak." "Too narrow, I declare," said Uncle Walter. "I cannot stand that, I must set down.
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