I told her the episode of the pink calico.

"It is a lovely color," she said, when I showed it to her.

"If you like, I will take it home and burn it." As I developed the dramatic part of my story--the blow given Charlotte Alden, Verry rubbed her face shrinkingly, as if she had felt the blow.
"Let me see your hand," she asked; "did I ever strike anybody ?" "You threw a pail of salt downstairs, once, upon my head, and put out my sight." "I wish, when you are home, you would pound Mr.Park; he talks too much about the Resurrection.

And," she added mysteriously, "he likes mother." "Likes mother!" I said aghast.
"He watches her so when she holds Arthur! Why do you stare at me?
Why do I talk to you?
I am going.

Now mind, I shall never leave home to go to any school; I shall know enough without." While Veronica was holding this placable talk with me, I discovered in her the high-bred air, the absence of which I deplored in myself.
How cool and unimpressionable she looked! She did not attract me then.
My mind wandered to what I had heard Mary Bennett say, in recess one day, that her brother had seen me in church, and came home with the opinion that I was the handsomest girl in Miss Black's school.
"Is it possible!" replied the girl to whom she had made the remark.