"What book? why your book the Bible there ain't any other book in the house, as I know. What on earth are you crying for, Ellen? He's fetched over his mother's old Bible, and there it lays on a shelf in the cupboard; and he has it out every once in a while. Maybe he's coming round, Ellen. But do hold up your head and listen to me! I can't talk to you while you lie with your head in the cushion like that. I han't more than begun my story yet."
"Well, go on," said Ellen.
"You see, I ain't in any hurry," said Nancy "because as soon as I've finished I shall have to be off; and it's fun to talk to you. What do you think I did, when I had done up all my chores? where do you think I found this, eh? you'd never guess."
"What is it?" said Ellen.
"No matter what it is I don't know; where do you think I found it?"
"How can I tell? I don't know."
"You'll be angry with me when I tell you."
Ellen was silent.
"If it was anybody else," said Nancy, "I'd ha' seen 'em shot afore I'd ha' done it, or told of it either; but you ain't like anybody else. Look here!" said she, tapping her apron gently with one finger, and slowly marking off each word "this come out of your aunt's box in the closet upstairs in her room."
"Nancy!"