From "A New England Nun" It was late in the afternoon, and the light was waning. There was a difference in the look of the tree shadows out in the yard. Somewhere in the distance cows were lowing and a little bell was tinkling; now and then a farm-wagon tilted by, and the dust flew; some blue-shirted laborers with shovels over their shoulders plodded past; little swarms of flies were dancing up and down before the peoples' faces in the soft air. There seemed to be a gentle stir arising over everything for the mere sake of subsidence -- a very premonition of rest and hush and night. This soft diurnal commotion was over Louisa Ellis also. She had been peacefully sewing at her sitting room window all the afternoon. Now she quilted her needle carefully into her work, which she folded precisely, and laid in a basket with her thimble and thread and scissors. Louisa Ellis could not remember that ever in her life she had mislaid one of these little feminine appurtenances, which had become, from long use and constant association, a very part of her personality. * This volume also includes "A Stolen Christmas," "Life-Everlastin'," "An Innocent Gamester," "Louisa," "A Church Mouse," "A Kitchen Colone," and "The Revolt of 'Mother.'"