"I don't know, Mis' Douglass, they come to me; it's practice,
I suppose. I had no intention of being obscure."
"One kind o' word 's as easy as another, I suppose, when you're used to it, aint it?" said the sewing-woman.
"What's abstractly?" said the mistress of the house, again.
"Look in the dictionary, if you want to know," said her sister.
"I don't want to know I only want you to tell."
"When do you get time for it, Lucy? ha'n't you nothing else to practise?" pursued Mrs. Douglass.
"Yes, Mis' Douglass; but then there are times for exertion, and other times less disposable; and when I feel thoughtful or low, I commonly retire to my room, and contemplate the stars, or write a composition."
The sewing-woman greeted this speech with an unqualified ha! ha! and Fleda involuntarily raised her head to look at the last speaker; but there was nothing to be noticed about her, except that she was in rather nicer order than the rest of the Finn family.
"Did you get home safe last night?" inquired Miss Quackenboss, bending forward over the quilt to look down to Fleda.
Fleda thanked her, and replied that they had been overturned, and had several ribs broken.