"I've been up to the mill.
I heard young Rip was ill, and going to leave; so I went up to ask if they'd try our Jim.

But young Rip isn't going to leave, and isn't ill, mother Floyd says, though it's certain he's not well.

She can't think what's the matter with the boy; he's always fancying he sees ghosts in the river.

I've had my trapes for nothing." She had given her gown a good shake from the rain-drops in the middle of the kitchen, and was now seated before the fire.

The clerk stood by the table, occasionally snuffing the candle, and wishing she'd take herself off again.
"Where's Nancy gone ?" asked she.
"I didn't hear her say." "And she'll be gone a month of Sundays, I suppose.