Sylvia's other sister, Hannah Berry, stood in the doorway.
Sylvia ordinarily was meek before her, but now she faced her.

"Yes, I be," said she; "I don't approve of free-will, and I ain't afraid to say it." Sylvia had always been considered very unlike Mrs.Hannah Berry in face and character.

Now, as she stood before her, a curious similarity appeared; even her voice sounded like her sister's.
"What on earth ails you, Sylvy ?" asked Mrs.Berry, ignoring suddenly the matter in hand.
"Nothin' ails me that I know of.

I don't think much of free-will, an' I ain't goin' to say I do when I don't." "Then all I've got to say is you'd ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Why, I should think you was crazy, Sylvy Crane, settin' up yourself agin' the doctrines of the Word.

I'd like to know what you know about them." "I know enough to see how they work," returned Sylvia, undauntedly, "an' I ain't goin' to pretend I'm blind when I can see." Sylvia's serene arc of white forehead was shortened by a distressed frown, her mild mouth dropped sourly at the corners, and the lips were compressed.