Harriet Prescott Spofford

“ Farrell, as if she still had Miss Sally's ear, "she can't hev it. It can't hang in anybody's empty doorway. It's—it's—too sacred to be seen of everybody!" And as she stood up—wondering then a little about Miss Sally's unfinished sentence and her own unanswered question, and yet in some blind inner consciousness knowing the answer very well—she saw, as she held her hands high in disposing her quilt property, the boys on the green playing ball and Reddy Blake leaning on his crutch just outside the ring. A ball flew wild, and Reddy, lifting his crutch, caught it on the fly and sent it back ”

“ An' thin's like that ain't no conserquens? They're the hull of a boy's life, an' a man's, too. An' nobody 'll hire me ter hold a hoss or run an arrant. I ain't no good at all!" And Reddy's tears salted his honey. "And I ain't got money fer a false foot, an' nobody else has!" he concluded.
"You couldn't wear one now whilst ye're growin'," said Mrs. Farrell, scooping up the last of the honey to drop it on Reddy's plate. "'Twould be a sinful extravagance ter buy one fer a growin' boy. In no time at all it wouldn't fit. You wait till you're a man." ”

“ She said she could hang it over an empty doorway, the lining outside, and when people admired the work of the sun on that crimson stuff, changing it to sun-color, she would turn it about and tell them the story of the place and the people. ”