Some day
you will go back to Kansas."
"Some day--perhaps," she laughed. "But now I am a true Black Logger.
Look at my gown."
It was the gray Dunkard dress--the concession to her uncle's beliefs on
worldliness. It was the first time I had noticed it.
"That is not the garb of Black Log," I said. "It was designed long ago
in Germany, after patterns from Heaven."
"And designed by men," said Mary, laughing; "forced by them on a sex
which wears ribbons as naturally as a bird does feathers."
"In other words, when you came to live with your pious uncle, he picked
you?"
"Exactly," she said; "but I submitted humbly. I came here, as I
supposed, a fairly good Christian, with an average amount of piety and
an average number of faults. My worldliness shocked my uncle, and
being a peaceful person, I let him pick me. But I rebelled at the
bonnet--spare me from one of those coal-scuttles--I'll go to the stake
first."
In her defiance she swung her own straw hat wildly around on the
string. Pausing, she smoothed out the gray gown and eyed it critically.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67