This effervescence made her flit with a bird-like movement,
rather than walk by her mother's side.
She broke continually into shouts of a wild, inarticulate, and
sometimes piercing music. When they reached the market-place,
she became still more restless, on perceiving the stir and
bustle that enlivened the spot; for it was usually more like the
broad and lonesome green before a village meeting-house, than
the centre of a town's business.
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"Why, what is this, mother?" cried she. "Wherefore have all the
people left their work to-day? Is it a play-day for the whole
world? See, there is the blacksmith! He has washed his sooty
face, and put on his Sabbath-day clothes, and looks as if he
would gladly be merry, if any kind body would only teach him
how! And there is Master Brackett, the old jailer, nodding and
smiling at me. Why does he do so, mother?"
"He remembers thee a little babe, my child," answered Hester.
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