ired into. Miss Moseley, who came into the house to help to do
the dress-making, acquired daily accessions of importance from the
developments with regard to Miss Ophelia's wardrobe which she had been
enabled to make. It was credibly ascertained that Squire Sinclare, as
his name was commonly contracted in the neighborhood, had counted out
fifty dollars, and given them to Miss Ophelia, and told her to buy any
clothes she thought best; and that two new silk dresses, and a bonnet,
had been sent for from Boston. As to the propriety of this extraordinary
outlay, the public mind was divided,--some affirming that it was well
enough, all things considered, for once in one's life, and others
stoutly affirming that the money had better have been sent to the
missionaries; but all parties agreed that there had been no such parasol
seen in those parts as had been sent on from New York, and that she had
one silk dress that might fairly be trusted to stand alone, whatever
might be said of its mistress. There were credible rumors, also, of a
hemstitched pocket-handkerchief; and report even went so far as to
state that Miss Ophelia had one pocket-handkerchief with lace all around
it,--it was even added that it was worked in the corners; but this
latter point was never satisfactorily ascertained, and remains, in fact,
unsettled to this day.
Miss Ophelia, as you now behold her, stands before you, in a very
shining brown linen travelling-dress, tall, square-formed, and
angular. Her face was thin, and rather sharp in its outlines; the lips
compressed, like those of a person who is in the habit of making up
her mind definitely on all subjects; while the keen, dark eyes had a
peculiarly searching, advised movement, and travelled over everything,
as if they were looking for something to take care of.
All her movements were sharp, decided, and energetic; and, though she
was never much of a talker, her words were remarkably direct, and to the
purpose, when she did speak.
In her habits, she was a living impersonation of order, method, and
exactness. In punctuality, she was as inevitable as a clock, and as
inexorable as a railroad engine; and she held in most decided contempt
and abomination anything of a contrary character.
The great sin of sins, in her eyes,--the sum of all evils,--was
expressed by one very common and important word in her
vocabulary--"shiftlessness." Her finale and ultimatum of contempt
consisted in a very emphatic pron
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