"Do you mean me?" demanded Rachel, her black eyes, like gimlets, on the
long, cynical face. "'Cause if you does, I can tell you that what I does, I
does right out on top; an' I guess by the looks o' you, that ain't your
style."
"You impertinent creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Chatterton, her long face
crimson with passion, not allayed by seeing that her friend could with
difficulty control her amusement. "She'll tell this everywhere," she fumed
within. "I shall go and speak to my cousin, Mr. King, about you, girl." She
moved her arm and shapely hand, both very beautiful still, and well
exhibited on every occasion, and started off with great dignity.
"I would," said Rachel scornfully. Then she laughed, "Oh, me! oh, my!
you're such a favor_ite_, you are!" and she doubled up her thin
figure, and went off in a little gust of merriment.
"Come with me." Mrs. Chatterton darted back and seized her friend's arm to
drag her away. "That detestable creature makes me feel quite faint."
As soon as they had disappeared down a winding path, Rachel's amusement
quite left her. She drew herself up stiffly, and hurried back to Polly, to
be the same quiet, attentive, deft little maiden as before.
"You do tie flowers up so beautifully," cried Polly, handing her another
big spool of baby ribbon. "Doesn't she, girls?"
"Yes, indeed," cried ever so many.
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