"I told you I'd show you where I live," said she. "Look up now, clear to the top of the mountain, almost, and a little to the right; do you see that little mite of a house there? Look sharp,--it's a'most as brown as the rock,--do you see it?--it's close by that big pine-tree, but it don't look big from here--it's just by that little dark spot near the top."
"I see it," said Ellen, "I see it now; do you live 'way up there?"
"That's just what I do; and that's just what I wish I didn't. But granny likes it; she will live there. I'm blessed if I know what for, if it ain't to plague me. Do you think you'd like to live up on the top of a mountain like that?"
"No, I don't think I should," said Ellen. "Isn't it very cold up there?"
"Cold! you don't know anything about it. The wind comes there, I tell you--enough to cut you in two; I have to take and hold on to the trees sometimes to keep from being blowed away. And then granny sends me out every morning before it's light, no matter how deep the snow is, to look for the cow; and it's so bitter cold I expect nothing else but I'll be froze to death some time."
"Oh," said Ellen, with a look of horror, "how can she do so?"
"Oh, she don't care," said the other; "she sees my nose freeze off every winter, and it don't make no difference."
"To be sure," said the other, nodding gravely, "every winter; it grows out again when the warm weather comes."
"And is that the reason why it is so little?" said Ellen innocently, and with great curiosity.
"Little!" said the other, crimsoning in a fury; "what do you mean by that? It's as big as yours any day, I can tell you."
Ellen involuntarily put her hand to her face to see if Nancy spoke true. Somewhat reassured to find a very decided ridge where her companion's nose was wanting in the line of beauty, she answered in her turn--
"It's no such thing, Nancy! you oughtn't to say so; you know better."
"I _don't_ know better! I _ought_ to say so!" replied the other furiously. "If I had your nose I'd be glad to have it freeze off; I'd a sight rather have none. I'd pull it every day, if I was you, to make it grow."
"I shall believe what Aunt Fortune said of you was true," said Ellen. She had coloured very high, but she added no more, and walked on in dignified silence. Nancy stalked before her in silence that was meant to be dignified too, though it had not exactly that air. By degrees each cooled down, and Nancy was trying to find out what Miss Fortune had said of her, when on the edge of the next field they met the brook again. After running a long way to the right it had swept round, and here was flowing gently in the opposite direction. But how were they ever to cross it? The brook ran in a smooth current between them and a rising bank on the other side so high as to prevent their seeing what lay beyond. There were no stepping-stones now. The only thing that looked like a bridge was an old log that had fallen across the brook, or perhaps had at some time or other been put there on purpose, and that lay more than half in the water; what remained of its surface was green with moss and slippery with slime. Ellen was sadly afraid to trust herself on it; but what to do--Nancy soon settled the question as far as she was concerned. Pulling off her thick shoes, she ran fearlessly upon the rude bridge; her clinging bare feet carried her safely over, and Ellen soon saw her re-shoeing herself in triumph on the opposite side; but thus left behind and alone, her own difficulty increased.