Van
Brunt peering down at her through a large opening, or trap-
door, in the upper floor.
"Well!" said he, "have you come out here to help me thrash
wheat?"
Ellen told him what she had come for.
"White maple bark — well," said he, in his slow way, "I'll
bring it. I wonder what's in the wind now!"
So Ellen wondered, as she slowly went back to the house; and
yet more, when her aunt set her to tacking her stockings
together by two and two.
"What are you going to do with them, Aunt Fortune?" she at
last ventured to say.
"You'll see — when the time comes."
"Mayn't I keep out one pair?" said Ellen, who had a vague
notion that by some mysterious means her stockings were to be
prevented from ever looking white any more.
"No — just do as I tell you."
Mr. Van Brunt came at dinner-time with the white maple bark.
It was thrown forthwith into a brass kettle of water, which
Miss Fortune had already hung over the fire. Ellen felt sure
this had something to do with her stockings, but she could ask
no questions; and as soon as dinner was over she went up to
her room. It didn't look pleasant now. The brown wood-work and
rough dingy walls had lost their gilding. The sunshine was out
of it; and what was more, the sunshine was out of Ellen's
heart too. She went to the window and opened it, but there was
nothing to keep it open; it slid down again as soon as she let
it go.
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