Mrs. Skinner’s Romance

           

           AnnesteppedoffthetrainatValleyRoadstationandlookedabouttoseeifanyonehadcometomeether.ShewastoboardwithacertainMissJanetSweet,butshesawnoonewhoansweredintheleasttoherpreconceptionofthatlady,asformedfromEsther’sletter.Theonlypersoninsightwasanelderlywoman,sittinginawagonwithmailbagspiledaroundher.Twohundredwouldhavebeenacharitableguessatherweight;herfacewasasroundandredasaharvest-moonandalmostasfeatureless.Sheworeatight,black,cashmeredress,madeinthefashionoftenyearsago,alittledustyblackstrawhattrimmedwithbowsofyellowribbon,andfadedblacklacemits.

           “Here,you,”shecalled,wavingherwhipatAnne.“AreyouthenewValleyRoadschoolma’am?”

           “Yes.”

           “Well,Ithoughtso.ValleyRoadisnotedforitsgood-lookingschoolma’ams,justasMillersvilleisnotedforitshumlyones.JanetSweetaskedmethismorningifIcouldbringyouout.Isaid,‘SartinIkin,ifshedon’tmindbeingscrunchedupsome.Thisrigofmine’skindersmallforthemailbagsandI’msomeheftierthanThomas!’Justwait,miss,tillIshiftthesebagsabitandI’lltuckyouinsomehow.It’sonlytwomilestoJanet’s.Hernext-doorneighbor’shiredboyiscomingforyourtrunktonight.MynameisSkinnerAmeliaSkinner.”

           Annewaseventuallytuckedin,exchangingamusedsmileswithherselfduringtheprocess.

           “Jogalong,blackmare,”commandedMrs.Skinner,gatheringupthereinsinherpudgyhands.“Thisismyfirsttriponthemailrowte.

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