She came home soon now with her parcels of sugar and tea from the grocer’s.  She entered the kitchen gravely and deposited them on the table by which her Aunt Amanda was seated stringing beans.  Flora wore an obsolete turban-shaped hat of black straw which had belonged to the dead aunt; it set high like a crown, revealing her forehead.  Her dress was an ancient purple-and-white print, too long and too large except over the chest, where it held her like a straight waistcoat.

“You had better take off your hat, Flora,” said Sophia.  She turned suddenly to Amanda.  “Did you fill the water-pitcher in that chamber for the schoolteacher?” she asked severely.  She was quite sure that Amanda had not filled the water-pitcher.

Amanda blushed and started guiltily.  “I declare, I don’t believe I did,” said she.

“I didn’t think you had,” said her sister with sarcastic emphasis.

“Flora, you go up to the room that was your Great-aunt Harriet’s, and take the water-pitcher off the wash-stand and fill it with water.  Be real careful, and don’t break the pitcher, and don’t spill the water.”

“In that chamber?” asked Flora.  She spoke very quietly, but her face changed a little.

“Yes, in that chamber,” returned her Aunt Sophia sharply.  “Go right along.”

Flora went, and her light footstep was heard on the stairs.  Very soon she returned with the blue-and-white water-pitcher and filled it carefully at the kitchen sink.

“Now be careful and not spill it,” said Sophia as she went out of the room carrying it gingerly.

Amanda gave a timidly curious glance at her; she wondered if she had seen the purple gown.

Then she started, for the village stagecoach was seen driving around to the front of the house.  The house stood on a corner.

“Here, Amanda, you look better than I do; you go and meet her,” said Sophia.  “I’ll just put the cake in the pan and get it in the oven and I’ll come.  Show her right up to her room.”

Amanda removed her apron hastily and obeyed.  Sophia hurried with her cake, pouring it into the baking-tins.  She had just put it in the oven, when the door opened and Flora entered carrying the blue water-pitcher.

“What are you bringing down that pitcher again for?” asked Sophia.

“She wants some water, and Aunt Amanda sent me,” replied Flora.

Her pretty pale face had a bewildered expression.

“For the land sake, she hasn’t used all that great pitcherful of water so quick?”

“There wasn’t any water in it,” replied Flora.

Her high, childish forehead was contracted slightly with a puzzled frown as she looked at her aunt.

“Wasn’t any water in it?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Didn’t I see you filling the pitcher with water not ten minutes ago, I want to know?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What did you do with that water?”