her mob-cap with its long lace strings bobbing with
every gesture. With her rosy cheeks, silver-rimmed
spectacles, self-satisfied smile, and big puffy sleeves,
she looked as if she might have stepped out of one
of the old frames lining the walls.

"What do ye think of me, Miss Jane? I'm proud
as a peacock--that I am!" she cried, twisting herself
about. "Do ye know, I never thought that
skinny dressmaker could do half as well. Is it long
enough?" and she craned her head in the attempt
to see the edge of the skirt.

"Fits you beautifully, Martha. You look fine,"
answered Jane in all sincerity, as she made a survey
of the costume. "How does Lucy like it?"

"The darlin' don't like it at all; she says I look
like a pall-bearer, and ye ought to hear her langhin'
at the cap. Is there anything the matter with it?
The pastor's wife's got one, anyhow, and she's a year
younger'n me."

"Don't mind her, Martha--she laughs at everything;
and how good it is to hear her! She never
saw you look so well," replied Jane, as she moved a
jar from a table and placed it on the mantel to hold
the blossoms she had picked in the garden. "What's
she doing upstairs so long?"