"You went right to sleep with your head on the table. I guess you're
pretty tired."

Aunt Abigail was sitting on the edge of a great wide bed with four
posts, and a curtain around the top. She was partly undressed, and was
undoing her hair and brushing it out. It was very curly and all fluffed
out in a shining white fuzz around her fat, pink face, full of soft
wrinkles; but in a moment she was braiding it up again and putting on a
tight white nightcap, which she tied under her chin.

"We got the word about your coming so late," said Cousin Ann, "that we
didn't have time to fix you up a bedroom that can be warmed. So you're
going to sleep in here for a while. The bed's big enough for two, I
guess, even if they are as big as you and Mother."

Elizabeth Ann stared again. What queer things they said here. She wasn't
NEARLY as big as Aunt Abigail!

"Mother, did you put Shep out?" asked Cousin Ann; and when Aunt Abigail
said, "No! There! I forgot to!" Cousin Ann went away; and that was the
last of HER. They certainly believed in being saving of their words at
Putney Farm.

Elizabeth Ann began to undress. She was only half-awake; and that made
her feel only about half her age, which wasn't very great, the whole of
it, and she felt like just crooking her arm over her eyes and giving up!
She was too forlorn! She had never slept with anybody before, and she
had heard ever so many times how bad it was for children to sleep with
grown-ups. An icy wind rattled the windows and puffed in around the
loose old casings. On the window-sill lay a little wreath of snow.