ttle scream of rapture, for it seemed almost as
if she had found a broken rainbow, there was such a glitter of gay
colors in the sunlight.

"Oh! _oh!_" she cried, "what lovely, _lovely_ pieces for a crazy quilt!"

For the old chest was nearly filled with scraps of silk and satin of
every shape and size, from bits not over an inch wide to the large,
three-cornered pieces, of which there seemed to be a great number, left
in cutting trimming-folds "on the bias," as Linda knew, for she had seen
many such remnants proudly displayed by those of her girl friends who
happened to be in the good graces of Miss Cranshaw, the village
dressmaker. But such brocades and stripes, such "plaid" and "watered"
and "figured" silks, such brilliant shades of color as she found among
the contents of that chest, her eyes had never looked upon before.

"I wonder if these are pieces of Deacon Burbank's mother's dresses?"
thought Linda, as she turned them over, exclaiming, every other minute,
"Oh, how pretty!" or "Oh, what a beauty!" for every new piece that she
took up seemed prettier than the last. "Why, she must have had as many
as Queen Victoria. Why _don't_ they wear such colors now? Most of the
silk dresses that Miss Cranshaw makes are black, or brown, or
sage-green, or some other sober shade; but these are all so bright.
Oh, what a lovely blue!"

"It is a handsome piece of silk, ain't it? That was the dress Miss Polly
Newcome wore to the inaugeration ball at Washington, 'most forty years
ago. They don't have no such silks in these days."

Mrs. Deacon Burbank had mounted the garret stairs with footsteps far
from noiseless, being, as she said, a "hefty" old lady; but Linda had
been too much absorbed to notice her approach until she spoke.

"Oh, Mrs. Burbank! What beautiful pieces!" cried Linda. "Where did they
all come from?"

"Why, they come from all 'round, my dear," said Mrs. Burbank, sitting
down with Linda, beside the green chest. "You see, my girls used to take
in dressmakin', when they was young, and the pieces kinder gathered an'
gathered. The girls used to keep the silk pieces separate, thinkin' they
might do suthin' with 'em sometime; but they never did. They was always
too busy to do much putterin' work. So the pieces have laid there ever
sence the girls left home. They all got married, many a long year ago,
my girls. Cecilia went to New York, and Evaline lives down in
Pennsylvaney--she's got to be quite an old woman herself