"
Sue interfered with the packing somewhat by darting to and fro, bringing her
mother sacred souvenirs given her by the Shaker sisters and the children--
needle-books, pin-balls, thimble-cases, packets of flower-seeds, polished
pebbles, bottles of flavoring extract.
"This is for Fardie," she would say, "and this for Jack and this for Ellen and
this for Aunt Louisa--the needle-book, 'cause she's so useful. Oh, I'm glad
we're going home, Mardie, though I do love it here, and I was most ready to be
a truly Shaker. It's kind of pityish to have your hair shingled and your
stocking half-knitted and know how to say 'yee' and then have it all wasted."
Susanna dropped a tear on the dress she was folding. The child was going home,
as she had come away from it, gay, irresponsible, and merry; it was only the
mothers who hoped and feared and dreaded. the very universe was working toward
Susanna's desire at that moment, but she was all unaware of the happiness that
lay so near. She could not see the freshness of the house in Farnham, the new
bits of furniture here and there; the autumn leaves in her own bedroom; her
worktable full of the records of John's sorrowful summer; Jack handsomer and
taller, and softer, also, in his welcoming mood; Ellen rosy and excited.
Pages:
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326