She had taken the red cloak from Lucy's shoulders
the evening before. Then a cold chill crept over her
as she remembered the lie Lucy had told--"not a
soul on the beach but Meg and the sandsnipe." For
an instant she stood without answering. But for
the window-sill on which her hand rested she would
have betrayed her emotion in the swaying of her
body. She tried to collect her thoughts. To deny
Jane's identity too positively would only make the
situation worse. If either one of the sisters were to be
criticised Jane could stand it best.

"You got sharp eyes and ears, Ann Gossaway,
nobody will deny you them, but still I don't think
Miss Jane was on the beach yesterday."

"Don't think, don't you? Maybe you think I
can't tell a cloak from a bed blanket, never havin'
made one, and maybe ye think I don't know my
own clo'es when I see 'em on folks. I made that red
cloak for Miss Jane two years ago, and I know every
stitch in it. Don't you try and teach Ann Gossaway
how to cut and baste or you'll git worsted," and the
gossip looked over her spectacles at Martha and
shook her side-curls in a threatening way.

Miss Gossaway had no love for the old nurse. There
had been a time when Martha "weren't no better'n
she oughter be, so everybody said," when she came
to the village, and the dressmaker never let a chance