and when Sary Jane spoke, she more often than not said, "There's
another!"

Her crooked shoulders Sary Jane had acquired from sitting under the
eaves of the palace to sew. That physiological problem was simple. There
was not room enough under the eaves to sit straight.

Sary Jane's red hair was the result of sitting in the sun on July noons
under those eaves, to see to thread her needle. There was no question
about that. The Lady of Shalott had settled it in her own mind, past
dispute. Sary Jane's hair had been--what was it? brown? once. Sary Jane
was slowly taking fire. Who would not, to sit in the sun in that palace?
The only matter of surprise to the Lady of Shalott was that the palace
itself did not smoke. Sometimes, when Sary Jane hit the rafters, she was
sure that she saw sparks.

As for Sary Jane's voice, when one knew that she made nankeen vests at
sixteen and three quarters cents a dozen, that was a matter of no
surprise. It never surprised the Lady of Shalott.

But Sary Jane was very cross; there was no denying that; very cross.

And the palace. Let me tell you about the palace. It measured just
twelve by nine feet. It would have been seven feet post,--if there had
been a post in the middle of it. From the centre it sloped away to the
windows, where Sary Jane had just room enough to sit crooked under the
eaves at work. There were two windows and a loose scuttle to let in the
snow in winter and the sun in summer, and the rain and wind at all times.
It was quite a diversion to the Lady of Shalott to see how many
different ways of doing a disagreeable thing seemed to be practicable to