“Never! Even if you sit with idle hands the rest of your days. But to go back to our muttons. What are we to do?”
“Write to Dr. Ely,” answered Meg, rising to her feet. “Bring me my writing-desk, Elsie.”
“On one condition,” said Elsie, placing a hand on either side of Meg’s face and looking pleadingly up into her eyes: “write please for Gilbert. Let me stay with you.”
“No, Elsie. Education will be worth everything to you. You cannot be successful without it.”
“Then teach me yourself. Dr. Ely said you had a wonderful mind.”
“Good friable soil for seed; nothing more. I have but a handful of knowledge and that would soon be exhausted. I cannot consent to your leaving school.”
“I’ll not leave—I’ll never go back,” said stubborn Elsie. “Don’t look so reproachful! This much I am decided upon: while you drudge I drudge, so that’s said, and I isn’t a-gwine to unsaid it, nuther,” she added roguishly, imitating the negro dialect and attitude.
“Obstinate little girl! I perceive I must bring my desk myself.”
“No, no, Meg,” and Elsie sprang to the door. “Only promise!”
“It is your good I seek, child.”