I'm not ever going to take the hundred
and twoth. I've decided."
Understanding filtered drop by drop into Aunt Olivia's bewildered
brain. She gasped at the final drop.
"Not ever going to take another stitch?" she repeated, with a
calmness that was awfuler than storm.
"No'm."
"You've decided?"
"Yes'm."
"May I ask when this--this state of mind began?"
Rebecca Mary girded herself afresh. She had such need of recruiting
strength.
"It's been coming on," she said. "I've felt it. I knew all the time
it was a-coming--and then it came."
It seemed to be all there. Why must she say any more? But still
Aunt Olivia waited, and Rebecca Mary read grim displeasure in
capitals across the gray field of her face. The little figure
stiffened more and more.
"I've over-'n'-overed 'leven sheets," the steady little voice went
on, because Aunt Olivia was waiting, and it must, "and you said I
did 'em pretty well. I tried to. I was going to do the other one
well, till you said there was going to be another dozen. I couldn't
BEAR another dozen, Aunt Olivia, so I decided to stop. When Thomas
Jefferson crowed I sewed the hundred-and-oneth stitch. That's all
there's ever a-going to be."
Rebecca Mary stepped back a step or two, as if finishing a speech
and retiring from her audience.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25