, wearin' one another's clothes and
never carin' whether they had 'em on right side out or not; I know what
they've had to live and dress on, and so do you. That child will like
as not come here with a bundle o' things borrowed from the rest o' the
family. She'll have Hannah's shoes and John's undershirts and Mark's
socks most likely. I suppose she never had a thimble on her finger in
her life, but she'll know the feelin' o' one before she's been here
many days. I've bought a piece of unbleached muslin and a piece o'
brown gingham for her to make up; that'll keep her busy. Of course she
won't pick up anything after herself; she probably never saw a duster,
and she'll be as hard to train into our ways as if she was a heathen."

"She'll make a dif'rence," acknowledged Jane, "but she may turn out
more biddable than we think."

"She'll mind when she's spoken to, biddable or not," remarked Miranda
with a shake of the last towel.

Miranda Sawyer had a heart, of course, but she had never used it for
any other purpose than the pumping and circulating of blood. She was
just, conscientious, economical, industrious; a regular attendant at
church and Sunday-school, and a member of the State Missionary and
Bible societies, but in the presence of all these chilly virtues you
longed for one warm little fault, or lacking that, one likable failing,
something to make you sure that she was thoroughly alive. She had never
had any education other than that of the neighborhood district school,
for her desires and ambitions had all pointed to the management of the
house, the farm, and the dairy. Jane, on the other hand, had gone to an
academy, and also to a boarding-school for young ladies; so had
Aurelia; and after all the years that had elapsed there was still a
slight difference in language and in manner between the elder and the
two younger sisters.

Jane, too, had had the inestimable advantage of a sorrow; not the
natural grief at the loss of her aged father and mother, for she had
been resigned to let them go; but something far deeper. She was engaged
to marry young, Tom Carter, who had nothing to marry on, it is true,
but who was sure to have, some time or other. Then the war broke out.
Tom enlisted at the first call. Up to that time Jane had loved him with
a quiet, friendly sort of affection, and had given her country a mild
emotion of the same sort. But the strife, the danger, the anxiety of
the time, set new currents of feeling