Susannah's dress and bonnet were roughly blown, and the clothes on the line flapped again around the tall figure of the witch in the doorway.
Susannah contradicted again with the scornful superiority of youth.

"I don't believe that your son is a prophet." Lucy Smith, having the sensitive receptive power of an hysteric, was sobered now by the determination of Susannah's aspect.

She looked almost repentant for a moment, and then said humbly, "If you'll come in and see Emmar--Joseph and Emmar have come home--Emmar will tell you the same." A gray vaporous tint was being spread over the heavens, folding this portion of earth in its shadow and darkening the interior of the cabin which Susannah entered.
Upon a decent bedstead reclined a young woman.

Everything near her was orderly and clean.

She belonged, it would seem, to a better class of the social order than the other, certainly to a higher type of womanhood.
"What have you got?
Is it a kitten ?" asked Susannah.