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"Why, Susan, what a piece of work you are making of that stocking heel! What in the world are you doing to it?" Susan dropped her knitting, and making some pettish answer, escaped out of the room. "Now, did you ever?" said Silence, laying down the seam she had been cross-stitching; "what is the matter with her, Mr. Adams?" "Miss Susan is certainly indisposed," replied our hero gravely.
Her sewing was wonderful. She was working eagerly on a little dark blue dress like Helen's for herself, and with Minnie's help was even putting a little simple cross-stitching on the cuffs and yoke. Rosanna was prouder of that dress than of anything she had ever had in her beautiful, crowded wardrobe.
"Don't go too close, dearie; you might catch something," said Minnie, intent on her cross-stitching and not caring much what the matter was. Rosanna slipped shyly down the bank and stood beside Helen. "She is telling me about it," said Helen, turning to Rosanna. "She earned the carfare to bring them out here for the afternoon by digging weeds on lawns. Go on!"
Late that night, however, she awoke me from my innocent slumbers with a request for knowledge as to the correct spelling of irrevocable and disillusionment. She was at her desk, writing hard, with her brows knit into an elaborate pattern of cross-stitching.
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