Rachel found her nightdress and half envied the daintiness.
"What were thy words with Faith about," she inquired in a somewhat peremptory tone.
"Thou art Faith's sister, ask her," was the resentful reply. She must tell the truth if she spoke at all, and she did not want to run another risk of being blamed. Andrew believed in her, that was the comfort she held to her throbbing heart.
"Thou art a froward child and hast been overindulged. But, I warn thee, Aunt Lois will train naughty girls sharply."
Rachel stood in a sort of expectant attitude and Primrose leaned against the window.
"Get to bed," the elder said quickly.
"Go! go!" Primrose stamped her rosy bare foot on the floor. "I want you away. I cannot say my prayer with you here."
"Thou needst prayer certainly. Among other things pray for a better temper."
Rachel went slowly, and shut the door. Primrose threw herself on the bed and gave way to a paroxysm of sobs and tears. Once she thought she would creep downstairs and fly to the woods—anywhere to be out of reach of them all. Oh, how could she endure it! Patty scolded sometimes, and Madam Wetherill reproved and had on an occasion or two sent her out of the room, but to be threatened with a whipping was too terrible!