With slim, lazy fingers, she began to braid her long, fair hair. It
seemed to her that folks were always peering and prying, to make sure
that every one else was like themselves. "You're doing different than
what I did," they said.
Anna wanted to "do different." Yet she was without courage or wisdom.
And because she was sulky and heedless, Mrs. Ploughman called her Sara
Barly's rebellious daughter. As Mrs. Ploughman belonged to the
Methodist side of the town, Mrs. Tomkins was usually ready to disagree
with her. But on this occasion, all Mrs. Tomkins could think to say,
was: "Well, that's queer."
"But what's she got to be rebellious over?" she asked, peering brightly
at Mrs. Ploughman.
"Perhaps," said Mrs. Ploughman, "she's sorry she wasn't born a boy."
"Well," cried Mrs. Tomkins, "I never heard of such a thing."
"There's lots you never heard of, Mrs. Tomkins," said Mrs. Ploughman.
"And plenty I never hope to hear," said Mrs. Tomkins promptly. "My
life!"
After breakfast, Anna helped her mother with the housework.
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