You see if she doesn't. It
may come hard, and the hinges creak, but she'll fix Elnora decent after
this, if Elnora doesn't prove that she can fix herself. As for me, I
found out that what I was doing was as much for myself as for Elnora. I
wanted her to take those things from us, and love us for giving them. It
didn't work, and but for you, I'd messed the whole thing and stuck like
a pig in crossing a bridge. But you helped me out; Elnora's got the
clothes, and by morning, maybe I won't grudge Kate the only laugh she's
had in sixteen years. You been showing me the way quite a spell now,
ain't you, Maggie?"
In her attic Elnora lighted two candles, set them on her little table,
stacked the books, and put away the precious clothes. How lovingly she
hung the hat and umbrella, folded the raincoat, and spread the new dress
over a chair. She fingered the ribbons, and tried to smooth the
creases from them. She put away the hose neatly folded, touched the
handkerchiefs, and tried the belt. Then she slipped into her white
nightdress, shook down her hair that it might become thoroughly dry,
set a chair before the table, and reverently opened one of the books. A
stiff draught swept the attic, for it stretched the length of the cabin,
and had a window in each end. Elnora arose and going to the east window
closed it. She stood for a minute looking at the stars, the sky, and
the dark outline of the straggling trees of the rapidly dismantling
Limberlost.
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