“I sent ye that word,” said Mrs. Purvine with admirable effrontery. “I knowed thar warn’t no other way ter git ye down hyar. When hev ye hed the perliteness ter fetch them bones o’ yourn hyar afore?” She looked over her spectacles with angry reproach at the girl. “Waal, aunt Dely,” said Alethea in her dulcet, mollifying drawl, sitting down on the step as she talked, “ye know I hev hed ter do so much o’ the ploughin’ an’ sech, a-puttin’ in o’ our craps. We-uns hev got sech a lot o’ folks up ter our house. An’ I dunno when Jacob Jessup hev done less work ’n he hev this spring.” “Thought ye be always ’lowin’ ye ain’t layin’ off ter do his work,” said the elder tartly. “Waal,” rejoined Alethea wearily, “I don’t ’pear ter hev the grit ter hold out an’ quar’l over it, like I used ter do. I reckon my sperit’s a-gittin’ bruk; but I don’t mind workin’ off in the field, ’thout no jawin’, whar I kin keep comp’ny with my thoughts.” “I wouldn’t want ter keep comp’ny with ’em,” said aunt Dely cavalierly. “I’ll be bound they air heavier ter foller ’n the plough. Mighty solemn, low-sperited thoughts fur a spry young gal like you-uns! Ef yer head could be turned inside out, thar ain’t nobody ez wouldn’t ’low it mus’ outside be gray. They’d say, ‘In the name o’ Moses! old ez this inside, an’ yaller outside! ’Tain’t natur’!’” The girl had taken off her bonnet. Her beauty was undimmed, despite a pensive pallor on her delicate cheek. She fanned herself with her sun-bonnet, and the heavy, undulating folds of her lustrous yellow hair stirred softly. “I’m powerful glad ter find ye hevin’ yer health same ez common,” she said.