"Miss Ross, a lady that paints, gave me the sunshade," said Rebecca, when she had exchanged looks with Mr. Cobb and learned his face by heart.
"Did you notice the pinked double ruffle and the white tip and handle? They 're ivory. The handle is scarred, you see. That's because Fanny sucked and chewed it in meeting when I was n't looking. I've never felt the same to Fanny since."
"Is Fanny your sister?"
"She 's one of them."
"How many are there of you?"
"Seven. There 's verses written about seven children:—
"'Quick was the little Maid's reply,
O master! we are seven!'
I learned it to speak in school, but the scholars were hateful and laughed. Hannah is the oldest, I come next, then John, then Jenny, then Mark, then Fanny, then Mira."
"Well, that is a big family!"
"Far too big, everybody says," replied Rebecca with an unexpected and thoroughly grown-up candor that induced Mr. Cobb to murmur, "I swan!" and insert more tobacco in his left cheek.
"They 're dear, but such a bother, and cost so much to feed, you see," she rippled on. "Hannah and I have n't done anything but put babies to bed at night and take them up in the morning for years and years. But it 's finished, that 's one comfort,
