secretly with Rebecca.

"I will!" said Rebecca, ramming the stiff turban down on her head
with a vindictive grimace, and snapping the elastic under her
long braids; "but it makes me think of what Mr. Robinson said
when the minister told him his mother-in-law would ride in the
same buggy with him at his wife's funeral."

"I can't see how any speech of Mr. Robinson's, made years an'
years ago, can have anything to do with wearin' your turban down
to Union," said Miranda, settling the lap robe over her knees.

"Well, it can; because he said: Have it that way, then, but it'll
spile the hull blamed trip for me!'"

Jane closed the door suddenly, partly because she experienced a
desire to smile (a desire she had not felt for years before
Rebecca came to the brick house to live), and partly because she
had no wish to overhear what her sister would say when she took
in the full significance of Rebecca's anecdote, which was a
favorite one with Mr. Perkins.

It was a cold blustering day with a high wind that promised to
bring an early fall of snow. The trees were stripped bare of
leaves, the ground was hard, and the wagon wheels rattled noisily
over the thank-you-ma'ams.

"I'm glad I wore my Paisley shawl over my cloak," said Miranda.
"Be you warm enough, Rebecca? Tie that white rigolette tighter
round your neck. The wind fairly blows through my bones. I most