From his bed he could see her slim back bent over the fine muslin frills she was pressing out with such patient precision, and he caught the glint of the sun on the rich twist of her bronze brown hair.

Presently he heard some one talking to her,--a woman evidently, whose voice was pitched in a plaintive and almost querulous key.
"Well, Mis' Deane, say 'ow ye will an' what ye will,--there's a spider this very blessed instant a' crawlin' on the bottom of the ironin' blanket, which is a sure sign as 'ow yer washin' won't come to no good try iver so 'ard, for as we all knows--'See a spider at morn, An' ye'll wish ye wornt born: See a spider at night, An' yer wrongs'll come right!'" Mary laughed; and Helmsley listened with a smile on his own lips.

She had such a pretty laugh,--so low and soft and musical.
"Oh, never mind the poor spider, Mrs.Twitt!"-- she said--"Let it climb up the ironing blanket if it likes! I see dozens of spiders 'at morn,' and I've never in my life wished I wasn't born! Why, if you go out in the garden early, you're bound to see spiders!" "That's true--that's Testymen true!" And the individual addressed as Mrs.Twitt, heaved a profound sigh which was loud enough to flutter through the open door to Helmsley's ears--"Which, as I sez to Twitt often, shows as 'ow we shouldn't iver tempt Providence.

Spiders there is, an' spiders there will be 'angin' on boughs an' 'edges, frequent too in September, but we aint called upon to look at 'em, only when the devil puts 'em out speshul to catch the hi, an' then they means mischief.

An' that' just what 'as 'appened this present minit, Mis' Deane,--that spider on yer ironin' blanket 'as caught my hi." "I'm so sorry!" said Mary, sweetly--"But as long as the spider doesn't bring _you_ any ill-luck, Mrs.Twitt, I don't mind for myself--I don't, really!" Mrs.Twitt emitted an odd sound, much like the grunt of a small and discontented pig.
"It's a reckless foot as don't mind precipeges,"-- she remarked, solemnly--"'Owsomever, I've given ye fair warnin'.