Publisher's Synopsis
A young fellow in a light buggy, with a big black dog sitting composedly beside him, enjoying the ride, drove up, one summer afternoon, to the door of a log-house, in one of the early settlements of Northern Illinois. A woman with lank features, in a soiled gown trailing its rags about her bare feet, came and stood in the doorway and stared at him. "Does Mr. Wiggett live here?" he inquired. "Wal, I reckon," said the woman, "'f he ain't dead or skedaddled of a suddent." "Is he at home?" "Wal, I reckon." "Can I see him?"
