She was twisting in her fingers a fine gold chain, which hung from her neck.

I caught her cunning glance as she flourished some tansy leaves before her face, imitating Mrs.Dexter to the life.

I laughed, and she came to me.
"See," she said softly, "I have something from heaven." She lifted her white apron, and I saw under it, pinned to her dress, a splendid black butterfly, spotted with red and gold.
"It is mine," she said, "you shall not touch it.

God blew it in through the window; but it has not breathed yet." "Pooh; I have three mice in the kitchen." "Where is the mother ?" "In the hayrick, I suppose, I left it there." "I hate you," she said, in an enraged voice.

"I would strike you, if it wasn't for this holy butterfly." "Cassandra," said Mrs.Dexter, "does look like her pa; the likeness is ex-tri-ordinary.