She could hear the voices of the guests in the porch around the
corner of the house--there was an ordeal for her around there, and
she went on. Loretta and Loretta's mother were there, and old Hon
and several wives and daughters of Tolliver adherents from up
Deadwood Creek and below Uncle Billy's mill. June knew that the
"bean-stringing" was simply an excuse for them to be there, for
she could not remember that so many had ever gathered there
before--at that function in the spring, at corn-cutting in the
autumn, or sorghum-making time or at log-raisings or quilting
parties, and she well knew the motive of these many and the
curiosity of all save, perhaps, Loretta and the old miller's wife:
and June was prepared for them. She had borrowed a gown from her
step-mother--a purple creation of home-spun--she had shaken down
her beautiful hair and drawn it low over her brows, and arranged
it behind after the fashion of mountain women, and when she went
up the steps of the porch she was outwardly to the eye one of them
except for the leathern belt about her slenderly full waist, her
black silk stockings and the little "furrin" shoes on her dainty
feet.
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