Mary E. Wilkins

“ I'd like to know why you've kept these old letters of Gilman Lane's so dreadful choice for all this time. They were wrote much as ten year ago, some of 'em."
"Aunt Joanna, give me those letters, please."
Clarissa trembled so she could scarcely speak. She felt as if all the light in the world was shining on her heart and showing it forth pitilessly, dispelling all its innocent shadows, which had seemed like guilty ones to her.
"I never see such a mess of nonsense in my life: all 'darling' an' 'dear.' It's enough to make anybody sick." ”

“ Anne found her there when she returned from the picnic. Anne had lost a little of her crisp daintiness of the morning. Her yellow hair was tumbled, her cheeks were hot, and her muslin dress was crumpled.
She sat down in the first chair with a sigh. "Oh," said she, "I'm glad to get in where it's cool! It's terrible out in the sun."
She looked around the room and at her sister approvingly. There were a certain patience and tranquillity about Clarissa, as she sat there sewing, which were cool and refreshing of themselves.
"You look real cool and comfortable," said Anne. ”

“ Sometimes anybody 'd like their own sister."
"I feel as if I was so much older."
"Older! You're not any older than dozens of girls that go all the time. You've not any older than Addie Leach or Abby Dutton; and I guess they'd be mad enough if anybody was to tell them they were too old to go."
"There's a lock of hair loose. Come round here and let me fix it."
"I don't care if it is," said Anne. But she stepped over to her sister, nevertheless, and Clarissa tucked up the golden lock carefully. ”

“ There was an odd tone in his voice then that made Anne stare wonderingly at him.
"Very well, thank you," Clarissa said.
"It was a good deal of a joke on me, but I declare when I first saw your sister to-day I thought it was you. She looks just the way you used to, doesn't she?"
"Everybody says she does."
"She does, sure enough. Why didn't you go to the picnic to-day, Clarissa?"
"I don't go out a great deal."
"She'd rather stay in the house and fill old sugar bowls and jars with rose leaves," Anne interrupted, with laughing pettishness. "I've been telling him about it." ”

“ People don't, I suppose, as they grow older."
"If they get up a party to go on West Mountain next week, will you go?"
"I'll see about it."
"I'll crimp your hair, and we'll fix over your blue dress."
"You'll be late, if you don't run along."
"Do I look all right?"
"Yes. I guess your hair'll stay up now."
After Anne had danced out with a crisp swish of muslin skirts, Clarissa went on with her work. She gathered up the soft rose leaves with her little thin veiny hands, and laid them in the jar with the greatest care. ”

“ Presently she reappeared at the entrance of the garden walk. "Go right in," she called out. Then she went around to the front of the house. "They'll see I ain't shut up in my room, crying," she thought to herself.
She sauntered about among the bushes, pulling roses here and there. She heard voices behind the parlor blinds. ”