"Well, I hope the stepmother won't abuse the pore child," sighed Cousin
Sophia, "but I have my doubts--I have my doubts. Anyhow, he'll be sure
to feel the difference between his usage here and what he'll get
anywhere else. You've spoiled him so, Rilla, waiting on him hand and
foot the way you've always done."
Rilla smiled and pressed her cheek to Jims' curls. She knew
sweet-tempered, sunny, little Jims was not spoiled. Nevertheless her
heart was anxious behind her smile. She, too, thought much about the new
Mrs. Anderson and wondered uneasily what she would be like.
"I can't give Jims up to a woman who won't love him," she thought
rebelliously.
"I b'lieve it's going to rain," said Cousin Sophia. "We have had an
awful lot of rain this fall already. It's going to make it awful hard
for people to get their roots in. It wasn't so in my young days. We
gin'rally had beautiful Octobers then. But the seasons is altogether
different now from what they used to be." Clear across Cousin Sophia's
doleful voice cut the telephone bell. Gertrude Oliver answered it. "Yes
--what? What? Is it true--is it official? Thank you--thank you."
Gertrude turned and faced the room dramatically, her dark eyes flashing,
her dark face flushed with feeling. All at once the sun broke through
the thick clouds and poured through the big crimson maple outside the
window. Its reflected glow enveloped her in a weird immaterial flame.
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