"Yes, I say it again," persisted the strange little creature, folding her arms and setting her head on one side, "widders are monstrous smart, up to a'most anything. I've often wished that I'd been born a widder with both eye-teeth cut, as theirs always is—are, I meant. Lor! Miss Hyde, you ain't a circumstance; just leave this one to me."
"Lottie, Lottie," said Mrs. Lee, shaking her head, "you speak too loud and look bold, it isn't becoming. Besides, the guests in a house must always be honored, never made subjects of criticism: in short, my good child, we are spoiling you."
Lottie withered into penitence with the first words of this reproof. When it was ended, a deep flush settled around her eyes, as if tears were suppressed with difficulty.
"Spoiling me! not with kindness, I should die without that," she said, half sitting down on the ottoman, half kneeling by the couch. "I won't speak another word against that—that lady. There, I've got it out; say you are not angry with me."
"Angry! no, my child. Only be careful not to say harsh things of any one, it is a bad habit."
"I am sorry!"
"Well, well."
"Very sorry!"
"There, there, child, it is not so very terrible."
"I'll never call the lady a widder again. Never!"