"Like to be behind the door"--this from her with the beads.

"I wouldn't," said the sister Serene.

"No, you wouldn't!"

"I'd rather be up next to the young man." A merry laugh, and then a
sigh from the sister Lize, who looked a bit dreamy and began to
tickle her head with a knitting-needle.

"What are you sighing for?" said she with the beads,

"Oh, well," said the other, yawning, "it makes me think o' the time
when I was a girl."

"Look! there's Jeanne Brulet,"--it was a quick whisper.

They gathered close and began to shake their heads and frown. Now,
indeed, they were as the Fates of old.

"Look at her clothes," another whispered.

"They're better than I can wear. I'd like to know where she gets
the money."

Then a look from one to the other--a look of fateful import, soon
to travel far, and loose a hundred tongues. That moment the bowl
was broken, but the weird sisters knew not the truth.