With the morning sun, however, came peace and joy. No moth nor rust nor
thief had appeared, and the lustrous lengths of shimmering silk defied
the sun itself to find spot or blemish.
"It looks even nicer than it did in the store, don't it?" murmured Miss
Priscilla, ecstatically, as she hovered over the glistening folds that
she had draped in riotous luxury across the chair-back.
"Yes,--oh, yes!" breathed Miss Amelia. "Now let's hurry with the work so
we can go right down to Mis' Snow's."
"Black silk-
black silk!" ticked the clock to Miss
Priscilla washing dishes at the kitchen sink.
"You've got a black
silk! You've
got a black
silk!"chirped the robins to Miss Amelia looking for weeds in the garden.
At ten o'clock the sisters left the house, each with a long brown parcel
carefully borne in her arms. At noon--at noon the sisters were back
again, still carrying the parcels. Their faces wore a look of mingled
triumph and defeat.
"As if we
could have that beautiful silk put into a
plaited skirt!" quavered Miss Priscilla, thrusting the key into
the lock with a trembling hand. "Why, Amelia, plaits always crack!"
"Of course they do!" almost sobbed Miss Amelia.
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