"Godmother! godmother! don't make me hate you!"
"Hoity-toity! What is the meaning of this? I didn't think there was so much temper in the child. Why, she is all afire! Oh, friend Jessup! friend Jessup! this comes of rearing her all by yourself! If you had sent her to me at 'The Rest,' a little wholesome discipline would have made such rough words to her mother's friend impossible!"
Ruth dashed the tears from her eyes, and held out both her hands.
"Godmother, forgive me! I am so sorry!"
Mrs. Mason turned half away from that imploring face.
"I was wrong—so wrong."
"To talk about hating me. The child she laid in my bosom almost in her dying hour."
"The wicked, cruel child! Oh, if you only knew how sorry she is! Godmother, oh, godmother, forgive me for her sake!"
Mrs. Mason wheeled round, and gathered the penitent young creature to her bosom; then turning her head, she saw that Jessup was greatly excited and had struggled up from his pillow.
"There, there! Lie down again. This is no affair of yours," she said, hastily waving her hand, which ended in a shake for the pretty offender. "Can't I have a word with my own goddaughter without bringing you up from your bed, as if something terrible was going on? Looking like a pale-faced ghost, too! No wonder the poor child gets nervous. I dare say you just worry her to death."