She looked at her children to see if they all were well, and then gave a glance at old Bacchus, who was snoring loud enough to wake the dead.

She shook him heartily and told him to hush his clatter, but she might as well have told a twenty-four pounder to go off without making a noise.

Then she sat down again and looked at Alice's window, and could not avoid seeing Aunt Peggy's house when she turned in that direction; thus she was reminded of her saying, "Death was about and arter somefin." Wondering what had come over her, she shut the door and laid down without undressing herself.
She slept heavily for several hours, and waked with the thought of Aunt Peggy's strange talk pressing upon her.

She determined not to go to bed again, but opened the door and fixed the old rush-bottomed chair within it.
Bacchus, always a very early riser, except on Sunday, was still asleep; having had some sharp twinges of the rheumatism the day before, Phillis hoped he might sleep them off; her own mind was still burdened with an unaccountable weight.

She was glad to see the dawning of "another blue day." Before her towered, in their majestic glory, Miss Janet's favorite mountains, yet were the peaks alone distinctly visible; the twilight only strong enough to disclose the mass of heavy fog that enveloped them.