It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. She struggled fiercely not to give way. She crooked her finger. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. The actual danger was lost sight of in these wild apprehensions; and many timorous beings were scared beyond reason's verge by the excess of their fears. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. \" Lucy said. A black silk furbelowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
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