mother."

"I hain't no objection--when I don't have the biscuits to make. Diana,
you baked a pan o' them biscuits too brown. Now you must look out, when
you put 'em to warm up, or they'll be more'n crisp."

"Everybody else has them cold, mother."

"They won't at my house. It's just to save trouble; and there ain't a
lazy hair in me, you ought to know by this time."

"But I thought you were for taking down people's pride, and keeping the
sewing society low; and here are hot biscuits and all sorts of thing,"
said Diana, getting up from her seat at last.

"'The cream'll be in the little red pitcher--so mind you don't go and
take the green one. And do be off, child, and fix yourself; for it'll
be a while yet before I'm ready, and there'll be nobody to see folks
when they come."

Diana went off slowly up-stairs to her own room. There were but two,
one on each side of the little landing-place at the head of the stair;
and she and her mother divided the floor between them. Diana's room was
not what one would have expected from the promise of all the rest of
the house. That was simple enough, as the dwelling of a small farmer
would be, and much like the other farm-houses of the region. But
Diana's room, a little one it was, had one side filled with
bookshelves; and on the bookshelves was a dark array of solid and
ponderous volumes. A table under the front window held one or two that
were apparently in present use; the rest of the room displayed the more
usual fittings and surroundings of a maiden's life. Only in their
essentials, however; no luxury was there. The little chest of drawers,
covered with a white cloth, held a brush and comb, and supported a tiny
looking-glass; small paraphernalia of vanity. No essences or perfumes
or powders; no curling sticks or crimping pins; no rats or cats,
cushions or frames, or skeletons of any sort, were there for the help
of the rustic beauty; and neither did she need them. So you would have
said if you had seen her when her toilette was done. The soft outlines
of her figure were neither helped nor hidden by any artificial
contrivances. Her abundant dark hair was in smooth bands and a
luxuriant coil at the back of her head--woman's natural crown; and she
looked nature-crowned when she had finished her work. Just because
nature had done so much for her and she had let nature alone; and
because, furthermore, Diana did not know or at least did not think
about her beauty. When she was i