"Nay, except lacework and hemstitching, but I shall as I grow older. There is Patty to sew, and as for stockings, I do not know how they come, for no one knits them, and they are fine and nice, with gay clocks in them, and oftentimes silken. I like the pretty things. But all Friends are not so plain. Some come to us with silken petticoats and such gay, pretty aprons, just like a garden bed."
Faith sighed. And now she wished Primrose might say, there was such witchery in her words.
Madam Wetherill was much surprised to have Primrose return so soon, but not sorry, she frankly admitted. She was greatly concerned about Friend Henry and hoped the fever would not be over troublesome.
"Good-by, little one," Andrew said, holding her hand. "I hope thou wilt be very happy; and I shall come to hear how it fares with thee."
Did she pull the stalwart figure down with her small hands? He bent over and kissed her and then blushed like a girl.
"Fie, Primrose! Thou art a little coquette, and learning thy lesson young!"
"But I like him very much," she replied with brave seriousness. "Only—it's pleasanter to live with thee," and she hid her face in Madam Wetherill's gown.