She never exchanged a word with Rebecca about William Berry.  She tried to persuade herself that Rebecca no longer thought much about him; she drove from her mind the fear lest Rebecca’s illness might be due to grief at parting from him.  She looked at Thomas Payne with a speculative eye; she thought that he would make a good husband for Rebecca; she dreamed of him, and built bridal castles for him and her daughter, as she knitted those yards of lace at night, when Rebecca had gone to bed in her little room off the north parlor.  When Thomas Payne went west a month after Charlotte Barnard had refused him, she transferred her dreams to some fine stranger who should come to the village and at once be smitten with Rebecca.  She never thought it possible that Rebecca could be persisting in her engagement to William Berry against her express command.  Her own obstinacy was incredible to her in her daughter; she had not the slightest suspicion of it, and Rebecca had less to guard against.

As the fall advanced Rebecca showed less and less inclination to go in the village society.  Her mother fairly drove her out at times.  Once Rebecca, utterly overcome, sank down in a chair and wept when her mother urged her to go to a husking-party in the neighborhood.

“You’ve got to spunk up an’ go, if you don’t feel like it,” said her mother.  “You’ll feel better for it afterwards.  There ain’t no use in givin’ up so.  I’m goin’ to get you a new crimson woollen dress, an’ I’m goin’ to have you go out more’n you’ve done lately.”

“I—­don’t want a new dress,” returned Rebecca, with wild sobs.

“Well, I’m goin’ to get you one to-morrow,” said her mother.  “Now go an’ wash your face an’ do up your hair, an’ get ready.  You can wear your brown dress, with the cherry ribbon in your hair, to-night.”

“I don’t—­feel fit to, mother,” moaned Rebecca, piteously.

But Deborah would not listen to her.  She made her get ready for the husking-party, and looked at her with pride when she stood all dressed to go, in the kitchen.

“You look better than you’ve done for some time,” said she, “an’ that brown dress don’t look bad, either, if you have had it three winters.  I’m goin’ to get you a nice new crimson woollen this winter.  I’ve had my mind made up to for some time.”

After Rebecca had gone and Ephraim had said his catechism and gone to bed, Deborah sat and knitted, and planned to get the crimson dress for Rebecca the next day.

She looked over at Caleb, who sat dozing by the fire.  “I’ll go to-morrow, if he ain’t got to spend all that last interest-money for the parish taxes an’ cuttin’ that wood,” said she.  “I dunno how much that wood-cuttin’ come to, an’ he won’t know to-night if I wake him up.  I can’t get it through his head.  But I’ll buy it to-morrow if there’s money enough left.”

But Deborah was forced to wait a few weeks, since it took all the interest-money for the parish taxes and to pay for the wood-cutting.  She had to wait until Caleb had sold some of the wood, and that took some time, since seller and purchasers were slow-motioned.