When the covered wagon was brought around to the gate, it speedily acquired a brilliant coat of varnish; Dolly's bay suit was streaked and discolored, and the reins, thrown over her back, got all wet and uncomfortable.
Michael now came for Cornelia's trunk--a ponderous structure packed within an inch of its existence.

Cornelia stood at the head of the stairs and saw it go thump! thump! thump! down to the bottom, and then scrape unwillingly over the oil-cloth to the door.

Such a heavy-hearted old trunk as it was! Then she walked to the hall-window, and watched its further journey along the glistening marble causeway, which dimly reflected its square ponderosity, and the tugging Michael behind it.
Now the gate had to be pulled open; the rasp of its rattle and sharpness of its flap were somewhat impaired by the wet, but it managed to give the trunk a parting kick as it went out, as much as to say the house was well rid of it.
"Cornelia!" called the Professor from down-stairs, "you've just five minutes to say good-by in.

Get through and come along!" She passed through Sophie's open door; her sister held out her arms, her eyes overflowing with tears, but smiling with the strange perversity that possesses some people on these occasions.

Cornelia was troubled with no such misplaced self-dental; she threw herself impatiently down by Sophie, and sobbed with all her might.