Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm HTML version

A Difference In Hearts
I don' know as I cal'lated to be the makin' of any child," Miranda had said as she folded
Aurelia's letter and laid it in the light-stand drawer. "I s'posed, of course, Aurelia would
send us the one we asked for, but it's just like her to palm off that wild young one on
somebody else."
"You remember we said that Rebecca or even Jenny might come, in case Hannah
couldn't," interposed Jane.
"I know we did, but we hadn't any notion it would turn out that way," grumbled Miranda.
"She was a mite of a thing when we saw her three years ago," ventured Jane; "she's had
time to improve."
"And time to grow worse!"
"Won't it be kind of a privilege to put her on the right track?" asked Jane timidly.
"I don' know about the privilege part; it'll be considerable of a chore, I guess. If her
mother hain't got her on the right track by now, she won't take to it herself all of a
This depressed and depressing frame of mind had lasted until the eventful day dawned on
which Rebecca was to arrive.
"If she makes as much work after she comes as she has before, we might as well give up
hope of ever gettin' any rest," sighed Miranda as she hung the dish towels on the barberry
bushes at the side door.
"But we should have had to clean house, Rebecca or no Rebecca," urged Jane; "and I
can't see why you've scrubbed and washed and baked as you have for that one child, nor
why you've about bought out Watson's stock of dry goods."
"I know Aurelia if you don't," responded Miranda. "I've seen her house, and I've seen that
batch o' children, wearin' one another's clothes and never carin' whether they had 'em on
right sid' out or not; I know what they've had to live and dress on, and so do you. That
child will like as not come here with a passel o' things borrowed from the rest o' the
family. She'll have Hannah's shoes and John's undershirts and Mark's socks most likely. I
suppose she never had a thimble on her finger in her life, but she'll know the feelin' o' one
before she's ben here many days. I've bought a piece of unbleached muslin and a piece o'
brown gingham for her to make up; that'll keep her busy. Of course she won't pick up
anything after herself; she probably never see a duster, and she'll be as hard to train into
our ways as if she was a heathen."