"
"They may well be that," said Pamela, whose pet detestation was the
manufacture of woolen stockings (then considered one of the component
parts of a girl's education in New England). "But Sally is such a
marvelous knitter that she will no doubt rejoice at your success. Had
you as severe weather in Lebanon as this? I am fearful that we will have
a hard winter, the cold has set in so early."
"They have had one flurry of snow already," Sally answered, "but not so
much wind as we of Litchfield rejoice in. But I had a merry visit and
saw much company. Dolly bemoaned daily that you could not come, Pamela."
"I am to go later, after or about the day set apart for Thanksgiving.
But you and Betty have much to say to each other, and I will not
interrupt you; Miss Bidwell has something for me to do, I'll warrant;
so, farewell for the present, Sally." And Pamela left the room.
"Come, sit beside me on the settle," said Betty, putting Sally in the
warmest seat. "Your fingers are cold, and the room is not yet
sufficiently warm. Well,"--with a significant smile,--"what have you to
tell me?"
"Not what you think," with a smiling nod, "for Francis Plunkett is far
too pressing for my taste,'' answered Sally.
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