years and they've hardly be'n out o'wear, summer or winter,
more'n a month to a time! I declare they do beat all for service!
It don't seem as if your mother could a' chose em,--Aurelia was
always such a poor buyer! The black spills are bout as good as
new, but the orange ones are gittin' a little mite faded and
shabby. I wonder if I couldn't dip all of em in shoe blackin'? It
seems real queer to put a porcupine into hat trimmin', though I
declare I don't know jest what the animiles are like, it's be'n
so long sence I looked at the pictures of em in a geography. I
always thought their quills stood out straight and angry, but
these kind o' curls round some at the ends, and that makes em
stand the wind better. How do you like em on the brown felt?" she
asked, inclining her head in a discriminating attitude and
poising them awkwardly on the hat with her work-stained hand.

How did she like them on the brown felt indeed?

Miss Sawyer had not been looking at Rebecca, but the child's eyes
were flashing, her bosom heaving, and her cheeks glowing with
sudden rage and despair. All at once something happened. She
forgot that she was speaking to an older person; forgot that she
was dependent; forgot everything but her disappointment at losing
the solferino breast, remembering nothing but the enchanting,
dazzling beauty of Emma Jane Perkins's winter outfit; and
suddenly, quite without warning, she burst into a torrent of
protest.

"I will NOT wear those hateful porcupine quills again this
winter! I will not! It's wicked, WICKED to expect me to! Oh! How
I wish there never had been any porcupines in the world, or that