She would laugh broadly and in silence, as if she had
been put on behavior in church, and there had adopted a grimace to make
the other girls laugh and save herself the suspicion.
As she pulled her skirts down to her feet, Vesta's observation was
confirmed that Rhoda had no stockings on, and she could not help
exclaiming,
"My dear child, what possessed you to ride this October morning only
half dressed? You might catch your death."
Rhoda caught her nose on the half sniffle, raised and dimpled her cheeks
in a sly laugh, and cried,
"Lord sakes! you mean my legs? Why, I ain't got but two pairs of
stockings, an' Misc Somers is a wearin' one of' em, and the ould pair's
in the wash. It's so tejus to knit stockings, and sech fun to go
barefoot, that I don't wear' em unless Misc Somers finds it out. Why,
the boys can't see me!"
She grimaced again so naturally and engagingly that Vesta had to laugh
quite aloud, and saw meantime that the young woman's oft-cobbled shoes
covered a slender foot a lady might have envied.
"Now, Rhoda," Vesta said, almost indignantly, "why did you not ask your
wealthy uncle for some good yarn stockings?"
"Him? Why, ma'am, he's got so many pore kin, if he begin to give' em all
stockings, he'd go barefoot himself."
"Has he other nieces like you?"
"No." The girl quietly grimaced, with her brown eyes full of laughter.
"There's plenty of others, but none like Rhudy; the woods is full of
them others.
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