of yarn which she wanted me to help her with.  I held up my two hands and she put the hank over them, and went on talking about her and her husband's matters.  But she broke off to say: “Keep your eye on the rats.  You better have the lead in your lap, handy.” So she dropped the lump into my lap just at that moment, and I clapped my legs together on it and she went on talking.  But only about a minute. Then she took off the hank and looked me straight in the face, and very pleasant, and says: “Come, now, what's your real name?” “Wh--what, mum?” “What's your real name?  Is it Bill, or Tom, or Bob?--or what is it?” I reckon I shook like a leaf, and I didn't know hardly what to do.  But I says: “Please to don't poke fun at a poor girl like me, mum.  If I'm in the way here, I'll--” “No, you won't.  Set down and stay where you are.  I ain't going to hurt you, and I ain't going to tell on you, nuther.  You just tell me your secret, and trust me.  I'll keep it; and, what's more, I'll