There's a good deal to do before two o'clock to-morrow afternoon, an' I can't do much myself; somebody's got to help.

In the mornin' you'll have to take the horse an' go over to the West Corners, an' tell Amelia an' her mother an' Lyddy Stokes's folks.

There won't be any time to send word to the Greens over in Westbrook.

They're only second-cousins anyway, an' they 'ain't got any horse, an' I dun'no' as they'd think they could afford to hire one.

Now you take that fork an' go an' lift the cover off that kettle, an' stick it into the dried apples, an' see if they've begun to get soft." Ann Edwards's little triangular face had grown plainly thinner and older in three days, but the fire in her black eyes still sparkled.
Her voice was strained and hoarse on the high notes, from much lamentation, but she still raised it imperiously.