"For," thought she, "a girl who
can write like that is of no common clay, and is bound to find her
level. If it is to be as the wife of my Robare that she reaches it, have
I any right to keep her back?"
After Sara had written the letter, her loyal heart reproached her so
that she could not rest until she had also invited a talk with Miss
Prue; so one fine day when there was just a hint of spring softness in
the air, as delicate as the flavor in a perfect dish, she wrapped baby
in his cloak, and drew him on Morton's sled to the cosey bay-windowed
cottage. Miss Plunkett seemed delighted to see them, so was the parrot,
who insisted on so much notice at first, that conversation progressed
only by hitches; but, becoming sleepy after a time (for Miss Polly was
an ancient maiden, and extremely fond of her "forty winks"), she
relapsed into a grunting quiet, and, as baby was also still and happy
over some blocks always kept ready for his use, the two soon became
deeply engaged.
When, however, Sara had gotten as far as the removal to Boston, the
elder woman threw up her hands in dismay.
"Goodness! child, of what are you thinking? Are you left so well off
that you can afford even to think of this thing? Why, my dear, even I,
with my means, which most Killamet people think large, would feel as if
abandoned to the wolves, there! I couldn't begin to live on my income.
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