Veronica's eyes shot more sparks than the disturbed coals, for Fanny's speech enraged her. Giving her head a toss, which swept her hair behind her shoulders, she darted at Fanny, and picked her up from the wood, with as much ease as if it had been her handkerchief, instead of a girl nearly as heavy as herself. I started up. "Sit still," she said to me, in her low, inflexible voice, holding Fanny against the wall. "I must attend to this little demon. Do you dare to think," addressing Fanny with a gentle vehemence, "that what you have just said, is true of _me_? Are you, with your small, starved spirit, equal to any judgment against _her?_ I admire her; you do, too. I _love_ her, and I love you, you pitiful, ignorant brat." Her strength gave way, and she let her go. "All declarations in my behalf are made to third persons," I thought. "I do believe, Miss Veronica," said Fanny, who did not express any astonishment or resentment at the treatment she had received, "that you are going to be sick; I feel so in my bones." "Never mind your bones. Twist up my hair, and think, while you do it, how to get rid of your diabolical curiosity." "I have had nothing to do all my life," she answered, carefully knotting Verry's hair, "but to be curious. I never found out much, though, till lately"; and she cast her eyes in my direction. "Put her out, Cassandra," said Verry, "if you like to touch her." "I'll sweep the hearth, if you please, first," Fanny answered. "I am a good drudge, you know. Good-night, ladies." I followed Veronica, wishing to know if her room was uncomfortable. She had made slight changes since my visit to her. The flowers had been moved, the stand where the candle stood was covered with crimson cloth. The dead bough and the autumn leaves were gone; but instead there was a branch of waving grasses, green and fresh, and on the table was a white flower, in a vase. "It is freezing here, but it looks like summer. Is it design?" "Yes; I can't sit here much; still, I can read in bed, and write, especially under my new quilt, which you have not seen." It was composed of red, black, and blue bits of silk, and beautifully quilted. Hepsey and Temperance had made it for her. "How about the wicket, these winter nights?" "I drag the quilt off, and wrap it round me when I want to look out." We heard a bump on the floor, and Temperance appeared with warm bricks wrapped in flannel. "You know that I will not have those things," Verry said. "Dear me, how contrary you are! And you have not eaten a thing to-day." "Carry them out." Her voice was so unyielding, but always so gentle! Temperance was obliged to deposit the bricks outside the door, which she did with a bang. "I should think you might sleep in Cassandra's room; her bed is big enough for three." No answer was made to this proposition, but Verry said, "You may undress me, if you like, and stay till you are convinced I shall not freeze."