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"
Joe read the article rapidly, and then read the last paragraph again and
threw the paper aside. She sat by the fire after breakfast, and Miss
Schenectady had come into the room several times and had gone out again,
busied with much housekeeping. For Miss Schenectady belonged to the elder
school of Boston women, who "see to things" themselves in the intervals of
literature, gossip, and transcendental philosophy. But Joe sat still for
nearly half an hour after she had done reading and nursed her wrath, while
she toasted her little feet at the fire. At last she made up her mind and
rose.
"I am going to see Sybil, Aunt Zoe," she said, meeting the old lady at the
door.
"Well, if she is up at this time of day," answered Miss Schenectady.
"Oh, I fancy so," said Joe.
Mrs. Sam Wyndham's establishment was of the modern kind, and nobody was
expected to attend an early breakfast of fish, beefsteaks, buckwheat
cakes, hot rolls, tea, coffee, and chocolate at eight o'clock in the
morning.


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