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Updated: May 31, 2025
She forgot to look at the garment the children examined so troubledly. Suddenly, Miss Theodosia Baxter traveler, fortune-favored one found herself as anxious for the success of Stefana's stout little project as the two young people within her field of view, but, suddenly and unaccountably, from a new motive.
I'm breathing easy so not to breathe the smell out. I never had any roses before." Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. She whispered a little laugh. "Seems as if I'd ought to be married while I have 'em! They're such beautiful roses to be married in!" And this was Stefana, their matter-of-fact, starchy little white-washer! This rapt, dreamy little face was Stefana's face!
It seemed little short of irreverence to have seen at all that picture of Stefana rocking her roses in the little wooden rocker. Miss Theodosia slipped away with it hung on the walls of her mind she would never take it down. John Bradford was coming along the road and she went a little way to meet him. Some of Stefana's radiance was in her own face. "I've found it," she announced in soft triumph.
As Orlando spoke of Stefana's visit to his son, Sacco's name was mentioned. Then, without another word, the two men exchanged a smile. A rumour was current that the Minister of Agriculture, lately deceased, would perhaps not be replaced immediately, and that another minister would take charge of the department pending the next session of the Chamber.
It would have been but half the labor to have begun at the beginning instead of at Stefana's poor little end. At midnight, Miss Theodosia made herself cups of tea and sipped them thirstily. A wrist, both thumbs, and her testing forefinger smarted; she was tired and disheveled. But the spirit of adventure refused to die. The fire burned red-hot and the irons must cool again.
But Evangeline's sober mind continued its line of thought. "Stefana says if you'll hang somethin' red out when you're asleep, or got callers, or anythin', then she'll make us play funeral." "Oh, no not that!" No red flag of warning could justify playing funeral. "Well, Hold-Your-Breath, then. We can't make much noise holding our breaths! Stefana's the champion Hold-Your-Breath-er.
"He says he can come home day after to-morrow if he don't colapse, so Stefana is cleaning the house and I'm helping and we can't hardly wait. We've got a new cloesbasket Stefana's going to make bows for the handles, tell Elly Precious. "P. S. Pink bows." Miss Theodosia was not impatient as she folded the little letter again. Tears stood in her eyes.
Look at the roses in Stefana's eyes in her soul " "Oh, you woman! Women are curious things." "Women are romantic things oh, you man! Why should you understand us Stefanas with your unsentimental soul-of-a-man? What do you know about our dreams?" She had not meant to say quite that. "Stefana's dreams," she corrected herself. "What do you know about them? And still "
We're goin' to put on that darlin' little ni'gown you made, for a dress belt it in, you know, with a ribbon off the handle o' the clo'es-basket; Stefana's ironed it out. An' we're goin' to pin on his blue ribbon prize."
Unpinning Stefana's many pins, she lifted out one of the dresses. It creaked starchily under her hands; it opened out before Miss Theodosia's horrified vision. She uttered a groan. Where, now, was that tender little heart-string tune? Miss Theodosia saw pink. Near-anger surged up within her at this ruinous, this piteous result of Stefana's toil.
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