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All the week she went barefoot and wore skimpy, checked home-spun dresses that made her look like an overgrown child, but on fourth Sundays her fine clothes and big doings walk made her look like some stranger-woman from town. Nobody could deny that she was naturally stylish and pure set off everything she wore. She made her red sateen Sunday frock, every stitch with her own fingers, and its short full skirt switched from side to side every step she took as smart as any ready-made, store-bought skirt in the whole congregation. The little red straw hat she bought from the crossroads store right after Christmas was untrimmed, but perched on the back of her head with her hair unwrapped and puffed out beneath its brim, it became her better than if it were loaded with ribbons and flowers (197).

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