s never herself in her aunt Miranda's presence? The
searching look of the eyes, the sharp voice, the hard knotty fingers,
the thin straight lips, the long silences, the "front-piece" that
didn't match her hair, the very obvious "parting" that seemed sewed in
with linen thread on black net,--there was not a single item that
appealed to Rebecca. There are certain narrow, unimaginative, and
autocratic old people who seem to call out the most mischievous, and
sometimes the worst traits in children. Miss Miranda, had she lived in
a populous neighborhood, would have had her doorbell pulled, her gate
tied up, or "dirt traps" set in her garden paths. The Simpson twins
stood in such awe of her that they could not be persuaded to come to
the side door even when Miss Jane held gingerbread cookies in her
outstretched hands.

It is needless to say that Rebecca irritated her aunt with every breath
she drew. She continually forgot and started up the front stairs
because it was the shortest route to her bedroom; she left the dipper
on the kitchen shelf instead of hanging it up over the pail; she sat in
the chair the cat liked best; she was willing to go on errands, but
often forgot what she was sent for; she left the screen doors ajar, so
that flies came in; her tongue was ever in motion; she sang or whistled
when she was picking up chips; she was always messing with flowers,
putting them in vases, pinning them on her dress, and sticking them in
her hat; finally she was an everlasting reminder of her foolish,
worthless father, whose handsome face and engaging manner had so
deceived Aurelia, and perhaps, if the facts were known, others besides
Aurelia. The Randalls were aliens. They had not been born in Riverboro
nor even in York County. Miranda would have allowed, on compulsion,
that in the nature of things a large number of persons must necessarily
be born outside this sacred precinct; but she had her opinion of them,
and it was not a flattering one. Now if Hannah had come--Hannah took
after the other side of the house; she was "all Sawyer." (Poor Hannah!
that was true!) Hannah spoke only when spoken to, instead of first,
last, and all the time; Hannah at fourteen was a member of the church;
Hannah liked to knit; Hannah was, probably, or would have been, a
pattern of all the smaller virtues; instead of which here was this
black-haired gypsy, with eyes as big as cartwheels, installed as a
member of the household.

What sunshine in a