"What are you layin' on your good bed in the daytime for, messin' up the feathers, and dirtyin' the pillers with your dusty boots?"
Rebecca rose guiltily. There seemed no excuse to make. Her offense was beyond explanation or apology.
"I 'm sorry, aunt Mirandy—something came over me; I don't know what."
"Well, if it comes over you very soon again we 'll have to find out what 't is. Spread your bed up smooth this minute, for 'Bijah Flagg 's bringin' your trunk upstairs, and I would n't let him see such a cluttered-up room for anything; he 'd tell it all over town."
When Mr. Cobb had put up his horses that night he carried a kitchen chair to the side of his wife, who was sitting on the back porch.
"I brought a little Randall girl down on the stage from Maplewood to-day, mother. She 's kin to the Sawyer girls an' is goin' to live with 'em," he said, as he sat down and began to whittle. "She 's that Aurelia's child, the one that ran away with Susan Randall's son just before we come here to live."
"How old a child?"
"'Bout ten, or somewhere along there, an' small for her age; but land! she might be a hundred to hear her talk! She kep' me jumpin' tryin' to an-
