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The canary fluted on, and from beyond the mulberry trees there floated the droning voice of an aged negress, in tatters and a red bandanna turban, who persuasively offered strawberries to the silent houses. "I'se got sw-eet straw-ber'-ies! I'se got swe-e-t str-aw-ber'-ies! Yes'm, I'se got sw-e-et straw-ber'ies des f'om de coun-try!"
Wouldn't you like them good ladies next door, and that nice gentleman opposite, all to kinder rise up and say, 'Oh, what a dear good little girl Sarah Walker is?" The interpolation of a smacking sound of lips, as if in unctuous anticipation of Sarah Walker's virtue, here ensued "Oh, what a dear, good, sw-e-et, lovely little girl Sarah Walker is!" There was a dead silence.
She held it up, luxuriating in its warm red glow. "Ver-ry sw-e-et and pretty and the brown shoes and stockings, too. I shall put them on the clean snow and look at them." She spread the things on the hard white crust and viewed them with increasing admiration.
She had travelled two thousand sea-sick miles to find herself an unwelcome guest, imprisoned within the four square walls of a nook-less Nook; bound fast in the trammels of old-world conventions. "My country, 'tis of thee, sw-e-et land of libertee!" murmured Cornelia, mournfully, beneath her breath. Two big tears rose in her golden eyes, and her lips quivered.
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