I guess you 'ain't got all there is to bear." "I never thought I had," said Charlotte.
"Well, I guess you 'ain't." They went on swallowing their food silently; the great clock ticked slowly, and the spring birds called outside; but they heard neither.
The shadows of the young elm leaves played over the floor and the white table-cloth.

It was much warmer that morning, and the shadows were softer.
Before they had finished breakfast, Charlotte's mother came, advancing ponderously, with soft thuds, across the yard to the side door.

She opened it and peered in.
"Here you be," said she, scanning both their faces with anxious and deprecating inquiry.
"Can't you come in, an' not stand there holdin' the door open ?" inquired Sylvia.

"I feel the wind on my back, and I've got a bad pain enough in it now." Mrs.Barnard stepped in, and shut the door quickly, in an alarmed way.
"Ain't you feelin' well this mornin', Sylvy ?" said she.
"Oh yes, I'm feelin' well enough.

It ain't any matter how I feel, but it's a good deal how some other folks do." Sarah Barnard sank into the rocking-chair, and sat there looking at them hesitatingly, as if she did not dare to open the conversation.
Suddenly Sylvia arose and went out of the kitchen with a rush, carrying a plate of Indian cake to feed the hens.