Inland there were not many noted localities, but we used to enjoy the woods, and our explorations among the farms, immensely.  To the westward the land was better and the people well-to-do; but we went oftenest toward the hills and among the poorer people.  The land was uneven and full of ledges, and the people worked hard for their living, at most laying aside only a few dollars each year.  Some of the more enterprising young people went away to work in shops and factories; but the custom was by no means universal, and the people had a hungry, discouraged look.  It is all very well to say that they knew nothing better, that it was the only life of which they knew anything; there was too often a look of disappointment in their faces, and sooner or later we heard or guessed many stories:  that this young man had wished for an education, but there had been no money to spare for books or schooling; and that one had meant to learn a trade, but there must be some one to help his father with the farm-work, and there was no money to hire a man to work in his place if he went away.  The older people had a hard look, as if they had always to be on the alert and must fight for their place in the world.  One could only forgive and pity their petty sharpness, which showed itself in trifling bargains, when one understood how much a single dollar seemed where dollars came so rarely.  We used to pity the young girls so much.  It was plain that those who knew how much easier and pleasanter our lives were could not help envying us.

There was a high hill half a dozen miles from Deephaven which was known in its region as “the mountain.”  It was the highest land anywhere near us, and having been told that there was a fine view from the top, one day we went there, with Tommy Dockum for escort.  We overtook Mr. Lorimer, the minister, on his way to make parochial calls upon some members of his parish who lived far from church, and to our delight he proposed to go with us instead.  It was a great satisfaction to have him for a guide, for he knew both the country and the people more intimately than any one else.  It was a long climb to the top of the hill, but not a hard one.  The sky was clear, and there was a fresh wind, though we had left none at all at the sea-level.  After lunch, Kate and I spread our shawls over a fine cushion of mountain-cranberry, and had a long talk with Mr. Lorimer about ancient and modern Deephaven.  He always seemed as much pleased with our enthusiasm for the town as if it had been a personal favor and compliment to himself.  I remember how far we could see, that day, and how we looked toward the far-away blue mountains, and then out over the ocean.  Deephaven looked insignificant from that height and distance, and indeed the country seemed to be mostly covered with the pointed tops of pines and spruces, and there were long tracts of maple and beech woods with their coloring of lighter, fresher green.

“Suppose we go down, now,” said Mr. Lorimer, long before Kate and I had meant to propose such a thing; and our feeling was that of dismay.  “I should like to take you to make a call with me.  Did you ever hear of old Mrs. Bonny?”