She was like a little animal born with a rebound to its own track, from whence no amount of pushing could keep it long.
Mrs.Babcock glanced sharply around the room as she sewed; she was anxious to divert Amanda's mind from the mats.

"Don't the moths ever git into that stuffed bird over there ?" she asked suddenly, indicating the gull on the shelf with a side-wise jerk of her head.
"No; I ain't never had a mite of trouble with 'em," replied Amanda.
"I always keep a little piece of camphor tucked under his wing feathers." "Well, you're lucky.

Mis' Jackson she had a stuffed canary-bird all eat up with 'em.

She had to put him in the stove; couldn't do nothin' with him.

She felt real bad about it.