That morning seemed a year ago; it was but yesterday.
"Old hats and bonnets," Vesta thought, "will be no novelties to me by
and by. This family of the Milburns is full of them."
Then, addressing the new arrival, Vesta said,
"This is your uncle, then? Where do you live?"
"I live at Nu _Ark_," answered the miss, taking down the black apron and
looking from the depths of the bonnet, like a guinea-pig from his hole.
"If she had said 'the Ark' without the 'New,'" Vesta thought, "it would
have seemed natural."
"Your uncle has a high fever," Vesta said, kindly; "he is not in danger,
we think. It was right of you to come, however. Now take off your
bonnet. What is your name?"
"Rhudy--I'm Rhudy Hullin, ma'am."
"Rhoda--Rhoda Holland, I think you say."
"Yes'm, Rhudy Hullin. I live crost the Pookamuke, on the Oushin side,
out thar by Sinepuxin. I don't live in a great big town like Princess
Anne; I live in Nu Ark."
At this the girl carefully extricated her head from the Conestoga
scuttle, looked all over the bonnet with pride and anxiety, and then
carefully laid it on the top of her uncle's hat-box.
"Uncle Meshach give it to me," she said, with a sly inclination towards
the sick bed. "Misc Somers made it. Uncle, he bought all the stuff; Misc
Somers draw'd it. Did you ever see anything like it?"
"Never," said Vesta.
"Well, some folks out Sinepuxin said it was a sin and a shame--sech
extravagins; but Misc Somers she said Uncle Meshach was rich an' hadn't
but one Rhudy.
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