There won't one o' them know ye; they'll think ye're a real livin' princess stepped out of a picture-book." Martha had not taken her eyes from Lucy since she entered the room.
"See my little beau-catchers," she laughed, twisting her head so that Martha could see the tiny Spanish curls she had flattened against her temples.

"They are for Bart Holt, and I'm going to cut sister out.

Do you think he'll remember me ?" she prattled on, arching her neck.
"It won't make any difference if he don't," Martha retorted in a positive tone.

"But Cap'n Nat will, and so will the doctor and Uncle Ephraim and--who's that comin' this early ?" and the old nurse paused and listened to a heavy step on the porch.

"It must be the cap'n himself; there ain't nobody but him's got a tread like that; ye'd think he was trampin' the deck o' one of his ships." The door of the drawing-room opened and a bluff, hearty, round-faced man of fifty, his iron-gray hair standing straight up on his head like a shoe-brush, dressed in a short pea-jacket surmounted by a low sailor collar and loose necktie, stepped cheerily into the room.
"Ah, Miss Jane!" Somehow all the neighbors, even the most intimate, remembered to prefix "Miss" when speaking to Jane.