"I'll take you up and show you your room, Rebecca," Miss Miranda
said. "Shut the mosquito nettin' door tight behind you, so's to
keep the flies out; it ain't fly time yet, but I want you to
start right; take your parcel along with you and then you won't
have to come down for it; always make your head save your heels.
Rub your feet on that braided rug; hang your hat and cape in the
entry as you go past."
"It's my best hat," said Rebecca.
"Take it upstairs then and put it in the clothes-press; but I
shouldn't 'a' thought you'd 'a' worn your best hat on the stage."
"It's my only hat," explained Rebecca. "My every-day hat was n't
good enough to bring. Sister Fanny's going to finish it."
"Lay your parasol in the entry closet."

"Do you mind if I keep it in my room, please? It always seems
safer."

"There ain't any thieves hereabouts, and if there was, I guess
they wouldn't make for your sunshade; but come along. Remember to
always go up the back way; we don't use the front stairs on
account o' the carpet; take care o' the turn and don't ketch your
foot; look to your right and go in. When you've washed your face
and hands and brushed your hair you can come down, and by and by
we'll unpack your trunk and get you settled before supper. Ain't
you got your dress on hind side foremost?"
Rebecca drew her chin down and looked at the row of smoked pearl
buttons running up and down the middle of her flat little chest.
"Hind side foremost? Oh, I see! No, that's all right. If you
have seven children you can't keep buttonin' and unbuttonin' 'em
all the time--they have to do themselves. We're always buttoned