Williams.” “Where 'bouts do you live?  In this neighborhood?' “No'm.  In ****ville, seven mile below.  I've walked all the way and I'm all tired out.” “Hungry, too, I reckon.  I'll find you something.” “No'm, I ain't hungry.  I was so hungry I had to stop two miles below here at a farm; so I ain't hungry no more.  It's what makes me so late. My mother's down sick, and out of money and everything, and I come to tell my uncle Abner Moore.  He lives at the upper end of the town, she says.  I hain't ever been here before.  Do you know him?” “No; but I don't know everybody yet.  I haven't lived here quite two weeks. It's a considerable ways to the upper end of the town.  You better stay here all night.  Take off your bonnet.” “No,” I says; “I'll rest a while, I reckon, and go on.  I ain't afeared of the dark.” She said she wouldn't let me go by myself, but her husband would be in by and by, maybe in a hour and a half, and she'd send him along with me. Then she got to talking about h