The Maidens' Lodge; or, None of Self and All of Thee (In the Reign of Queen Anne). Emily Sarah Holt

I know,” whispered Phoebe. “You are so good, Mrs. Dorothy!”

      “Now for the story!” said Rhoda, dancing into the little parlour. “You’ve had oceans of time to dry your eyes. I have been to Mrs. Jane, and Mrs. Clarissa, and my Lady Betty; and I’ve had a dish of tea with each one. I shall turn into a tea-plant presently. Now I’m ready, Mrs. Dorothy; go on!”

      “What fashion of tale should you like, Mrs. Rhoda?”

      “Oh, you had better begin at the beginning,” said Rhoda. “I don’t think I ever heard you tell about when you were a child; you always begin with the Revolution. Go back a little earlier, and let us have your whole history.”

      Mrs. Dorothy paused thoughtfully.

      “It won’t do me any harm,” added Rhoda; “and I can’t see why you should care. You’re nearly seventy, aren’t you?”

      Phoebe’s shy glance at her cousin might have been interpreted to mean that she did not think her very civil; but Mrs. Dorothy did not resent the question.

      “Yes, my dear, I am over seventy,” she said, quietly. “And I don’t know that it would do you any harm. You have to face the world, too, one of these days. Please God, you may have a more guarded entrance into it than I had! Here is a cushion for your back, Mrs. Rhoda; and, Phoebe, my dear, here is one for you. Let me reach my knitting, and then you shall hear my story. But it will be a long one.”

      “So much the better, if ’tis agreeable,” answered Rhoda. “I don’t care for stories that are over in a minute.”

      “This will not be over in a day,” said Mrs. Dorothy.

      “All right,” responded Rhoda, settling herself as comfortably as she could. “I say, Phoebe, change cushions with me; I’m sure you’ve got the softer.”

      And Phoebe obeyed in an instant.