I shall miss her runnin' over. I can seem
to see her now, coming over the rise in the road. But don't you get in
a way of takin' things too hard, Sarah Ellen! You've worked yourself
all to pieces since I saw you last; you're gettin' to be as lean as a
meetin'-house fly. Now, you're comin' in to have a cup o' tea with me,
an' then you'll feel better. I've got some new molasses gingerbread
that I baked this mornin'."
"I do feel beat out, Mis' Crane," acknowledged the poor little soul,
glad of a chance to speak, but touched by this unexpected mark of
consideration. "If I could ha' done as I wanted to I should be feelin'
well enough, but to be set aside an' ordered about, where I'd taken
the lead in sickness so much, an' knew how to deal with Sister Barsett
so well! She might be livin' now, perhaps"--
"Come; we'd better go in, 'tis gettin' damp," and the mistress of the
house rose so hurriedly as to seem bustling. "Don't dwell on Sister
Barsett an' her foolish folks no more; I wouldn't, if I was you."
They went into the front room, which was dim with the twilight of the
half-closed blinds and two great syringa bushes that grew against
them. Sarah Ellen put down her bundle and bestowed herself in the
large, cane-seated rocking-chair. Mrs. Crane directed her to stay
there awhile and rest, and then come out into the kitchen when she got
ready.
A cheerful clatter of dishes was heard at once upon Mrs. Crane's
disappearance. "I hope she's goin' to make one o' her nice
short-cakes, but I don't know's she'll think it quite worth while,"
thought the guest humbly.
Pages:
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429