Take care of it, child.
People'll git it away from you.

They're nothing but wolves, wolves, wolves;" and, saying these words, the old man set off at a rapid pace down the street, without bidding Mercy good-morning.
As she stood watching him with an expression of ever-increasing astonishment, he turned suddenly, planted his stick in the ground, and called,-- "God bless my soul! God bless my soul! Bad habit, bad habit.

Never do say good-morning,--bad habit.

Too old to change, too old to change.

Bad habit, bad habit." And with a nod to Mercy, but still not saying good-morning, he walked away.
Mercy ran into the house, breathless with amusement and wonder, and gave her mother a most graphic account of this strange interview.
"But, for all his queerness, I like him, and I believe he'll be a great friend of ours," she said, as she finished her story.
Mrs.Carr was knitting a woollen stocking.