The weather-beaten
boards of the barn were drenched black, except a small place right under
the eaves, which looked as if it had been painted a light gray. When the
covered wagon was brought around to the gate, it speedily acquired a
brilliant coat of varnish; Dolly's bay suit was streaked and discolored,
and the reins, thrown over her back, got all wet and uncomfortable.
Michael now came for Cornelia's trunk--a ponderous structure packed
within an inch of its existence. Cornelia stood at the head of the
stairs and saw it go thump! thump! thump! down to the bottom, and then
scrape unwillingly over the oil-cloth to the door. Such a heavy-hearted
old trunk as it was! Then she walked to the hall-window, and watched its
further journey along the glistening marble causeway, which dimly
reflected its square ponderosity, and the tugging Michael behind it.
Now the gate had to be pulled open; the rasp of its rattle and sharpness
of its flap were somewhat impaired by the wet, but it managed to give
the trunk a parting kick as it went out, as much as to say the house was
well rid of it.
"Cornelia!" called the Professor from down-stairs, "you've just five
minutes to say good-by in. Get through and come along!"
She passed through Sophie's open door; her sister held out her arms, her
eyes overflowing with tears, but smiling with the strange perversity
that possesses some people on these occasions.
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