"Do you believe in warnings?" said the Widow
Green, addressing Mrs. Waters. "Most sartinly I do, and with good
reason," was the reply. "For many and many a time I have been warned of
sickness and death in the neighborhood." The stillness and lateness of
the hour, together with the employment of the women, surrounded as they
were with crape and black cloths of different kinds, struck me with a
feeling of superstitious awe; and I listened to their conversation as
children listen to a story which fills them with terror, while yet they
are unwilling to lose a word. "It was only last winter," continued Mrs.
Waters, "just before old Mr. Harris died--you remember him, he lived,
you know, over on the east road toward the pond--as I was saying, one
night about nine o'clock, there came two quick raps at our front door,
as loud almost as if you had struck with a hammer; Waters was just
lighting his pipe at the kitchen fire, and he gave such a spring when
the sudden thumps came on the door that he upset a pitcher of yeast I
had left by the fire to rise, of course that was of no consequence, and
I only mention it as a circumstance connected with the warning, and to
let you know that he was frightened, for you know for a general thing he
kind o' makes light o' these things and says 'all old women, who drink
green tea, have dreams and wonderful warnings.
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