"Why, bless my soul!" she cried. "Hand-woven, hand-embroidered linen,
fine as silk. It's priceless' I haven't seen such things in years. My
mother had garments like those when I was a child, but my sisters had
them cut up for collars, belts, and fancy waists while I was small. Look
at the exquisite work!"
"Where could it have come from?" cried Elnora.
She shook out a petticoat, with a hand-wrought ruffle a foot deep, then
an old-fashioned chemise the neck and sleeve work of which was elaborate
and perfectly wrought. On the breast was pinned a note that she hastily
opened.
"I was married in these," it read, "and I had intended to be buried in
them, but perhaps it would be more sensible for you to graduate and get
married in them yourself, if you like. Your mother."
"From my mother!" Wide-eyed, Elnora looked at the Bird Woman. "I never
in my life saw the like. Mother does things I think I never can forgive,
and when I feel hardest, she turns around and does something that makes
me think she just must love me a little bit, after all. Any of the girls
would give almost anything to graduate in hand-embroidered linen like
that. Money can't buy such things. And they came when I was thinking she
didn't care what became of me. Do you suppose she can be insane?"
"Yes," said the Bird Woman. "Wildly insane, if she does not love you and
care what becomes of you."
Elnora arose and held the petticoat to her.
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