ay that you always
have snubbed me and contradicted and ordered me round. I won't bear it
no longer."

"Come, Ruey, don't make a fool of yourself at your time of life," said
Miss Roxy. "Things is bad enough in this world without two lone sisters
and church-members turnin' agin each other. You must take me as I am,
Ruey; my bark's worse than my bite, as you know."

Miss Ruey sank back pacified into her usual state of pillowy dependence;
it was so much easier to be good-natured than to contend. As for Miss
Roxy, if you have ever carefully examined a chestnut-burr, you will
remember that, hard as it is to handle, no plush of downiest texture can
exceed the satin smoothness of the fibres which line its heart. There
are a class of people in New England who betray the uprising of the
softer feelings of our nature only by an increase of outward asperity--a
sort of bashfulness and shyness leaves them no power of expression for
these unwonted guests of the heart--they hurry them into inner chambers
and slam the doors upon them, as if they were vexed at their appearance.

Now if poor Miss Roxy had been like you, my dear young lady--if her soul
had been encased in a round, rosy, and comely body, and looked out of
tender blue eyes shaded by golden hair, probably the grief and love she
felt would have shown themselves only in bursts of feeling most graceful
to see, and engaging the sympathy of all; but this same soul, imprisoned
in a dry, angular body, stiff and old, and looking out under beetling
eyebrows, over withered high cheek-bones, could only utter itself by a
passionate tempest--unlovely utterance of a lovely impulse--dear only to
Him who sees with a Father's heart the real beauty of spirits. It is our
firm faith that bright solemn angels in celestial watchings were
frequent guests in the homely room of the two sisters, and that passing
by all accidents of age and poverty, withered skins, bony features, and
grotesque movements and shabby clothing, they saw more real beauty there
than in many a scented boudoir where seeming angels smile in lace and
satin.

"Ruey," said Miss Roxy, in a more composed voice, while her hard, bony
hands still trembled with excitement, "this 'ere's been on my mind a
good while. I hain't said nothin' to nobody, but I've seen it a-comin'.
I always thought that child wa'n't for a long life. Lives is run in
different lengths, and nobody can say what's the matter with some folks,
only that their thr