bonnet, carefully covered over from any chance of dust, with a large
cotton handkerchief, of so heavy and serviceable a texture that if the
thing underneath it had been a flimsy fabric of gauze and lace and
flowers, it would have been altogether 'scromfished' (again to quote
from Betty's vocabulary). But the bonnet was made of solid straw, and
its only trimming was a plain white ribbon put over the crown, and
forming the strings. Still, there was a neat little quilling inside,
every plait of which Molly knew, for had she not made it herself the
evening before, with infinite pains? and was there not a little blue
bow in this quilling, the very first bit of such finery Molly had ever
had the prospect of wearing?

Six o'clock now! the pleasant, brisk ringing of the church bells told
that; calling every one to their daily work, as they had done for
hundreds of years. Up jumped Molly, and ran with her bare little feet
across the room, and lifted off the handkerchief and saw once again the
bonnet; the pledge of the gay bright day to come. Then to the window,
and after some tugging she opened the casement, and let in the sweet
morning air. The dew was already off the flowers in the garden below,
but still rising from the long hay-grass in the meadows directly
beyond. At one side lay the little town of Hollingford, into a street
of which Mr. Gibson's front door opened; and delicate columns, and
little puffs of smoke were already beginning to rise from many a
cottage chimney where some housewife was already up, and preparing
breakfast for the bread-winner of the family.

Molly Gibson saw all this, but all she thought about it was, 'Oh! it
will be a fine day! I was afraid it never, never would come; or that,
if it ever came, it would be a rainy day!' Five-and-forty years ago,
children's pleasures in a country town were very simple, and Molly had