Uncle brought her the next day in his sulky,--a slight little creature, with a bundle as large as herself. Presently she appeared at the sitting-room door. She was scarcely taller than a well-grown ten-years child. She wore a dress of gay-hued print, a bright shawl whose fringe reached lower than the edge of her skirt, and on her head an old-world straw bonnet decorated with a mat of crushed artificial flowers, and a faded, crumpled green veil. The small head had a way of moving in quick little jerks, like a chicken's; and it was odd to see how the enormous bonnet moved and jerked in unison. The face and features were small, except the eyes, which were large and wide open, and blue as turquoise. She took time to look well around the room before she spoke:--"Well, I'm come; I suppose you've been expecting of me. See here, be I going to sleep with that colored woman?" It was not possible to know from her manner to whom the query was addressed; but Aunt Janet replied, "No, Rhoda, there is a room for you. We never ask Dorothy to share her room with any one." Then, turning to me, "Go and show Rhoda her room, my dear." I rose to obey. Rhoda surveyed me, as if taking an inventory of the particulars which made up my exterior; and when I in turn felt my eyes attracted by her somewhat singular aspect, she remarked, in an indescribably authoritative tone, "Don't gawp! I hate to be gawped at." "See what a pretty room Dorothy has got ready for you," said I,--"a chest of drawers in it, too; and there's a little closet. I am sure you will like your room." "No, you ain't sure neither," she replied. "Nobody can't tell till they've tried. Likely yourn has got a carpet all over it. Hain't it, now?" "It has a straw matting," I answered. "And it's bigger'n this, I'll bet Ain't it, now?" "It is larger; but Louise and I have it together," said I. "Yes, I've heard tell about her," said Rhoda. "Well, you see you and her ain't town-poor. If you was town-poor you'd have to put up with everything,--little room, and straw bed, and old clothes, and everything. I expect I'll have to take your old gowns; hain't you got any? Say, now." "Yes," I said, "but I wear them myself. Surely, that you have on is not old." "Well, that's because I picked berries enough to buy it with. My bundle there's all old duds, though. It takes me half my time to patch 'em. You'd pitch 'em into the rag-bag. Wouldn't you, now?" "I have not seen them, you know," I replied. "More you hain't, nor you ain't agoing to. I hate folks peeking over my things." "Well," said I, "you may be sure I shall never do it. I must go back to my work now." "O, you feel above looking at town-poor's things, don't you? Wait till I've showed you my new apron. I didn't ride in it for fear I'd dust it. It's real gay, ain't it, now?" "Yes," said I; "it looks like a piece of a tulip-bed. But I must really go. I hope you will like your room."