The Portion of Labor by Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman
page 36 of 644 (05%)
page 36 of 644 (05%)
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her arm her best dress--a cherished blue silk, ornate with ribbons
and cheap lace. "Where's that pattern?" she asked her sister. "She wouldn't ever do such a thing," moaned Fanny. "Where's that pattern?" "What pattern?" Fanny said, faintly. "That little dress pattern. Her little dress pattern, the one you cut over my dress for her by." "In the bureau drawer in my room. Oh, she wouldn't." Eva went into the bedroom, returned with the pattern, got the scissors from Fanny's work-basket, and threw her best silk dress in a rustling heap upon the table. Fanny stopped moaning and looked at her with wretched wonder. "What be you goin' to do?" "Do?" cried Eva, fiercely--"do? I'm goin' to cut this dress over for her." "You ain't." "Yes, I be. If I drove her away from home, scoldin' because you cut over that other old thing of mine for her, I'm goin' to make up for it now. I'm goin' to give her my best blue silk, that I paid a dollar and a half a yard for, and 'ain't worn three times. Yes, I |
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