"Look a-here, Phœbe," she said, in a scandalized voice, as she rose and faced her sister, "ain't you goin' to put on somethin' over your chest? That ain't decent the way you've got yerself fixed now!"
"Nonsense!" cried Phœbe, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Wouldst have me cover my breast like a married woman! Look to thine own attire. Come, where hast put it?"
Rebecca put her hands on her hips and looked into her sister's face with a stern determination.
"Ef you think I'm agoin' to put on play-actor clothes an' go round lookin' indecent, Phœbe Wise, why, you're mistaken—'cause I ain't—so there!"
"Nay, nurse!" Phœbe exclaimed, earnestly. "'Tis the costume thou art wearing now that is mummer's weeds. Come, sweet—come! They'll not yield thee admittance below else."
She concluded with a warning inflection, and shook her finger affectionately at her sister.
Rebecca opened her mouth several times and closed it again in despair ere she could find a reply. At length she seated herself slowly, folded her arms, and said:
"They can do jest whatever they please downstairs, Phœbe. As fer me, I'd sooner be seen in my nightgown than in the flighty, flitter-scatter duds the women 'round here wear. Not but you look good enough in 'em, if you'd cover your chest, but play-actin' is meant for young folks—not fer old maids like me."
"Nay—but——"
"What the lands sakes d'ye holler neigh all the time fer? I'm not agoin' to neigh, an' you might's well make up your mind to't."