“And, anyway, if I’m the martyr, Aunt Priscilla is the tyrant and the oppressor and the Spanish Inquisitor, and all those dreadful things, and that’s a great deal worse! I’m ground under her iron heel, and crushed beneath her yoke, and chastised with her scorpions; but I’ll bear it all cheerfully, and never even mention it. Because you see, Cloppy, we’re doing right; and it’s a great thing to do right, and very exciting.”
CHAPTER X
A SELF-MADE BURGLAR
Thus steadfastly pursuing the straight and narrow path of rectitude, Ladybird arrived at Mr. Bates’s farm and turned in at the gate.
Her purpose had begun to waver a little, but she bolstered it up with her determination and enthusiasm, and vigorously rang the Bates door-bell.
In a few moments a little girl tense with suppressed excitement, and a blinking, quivering dog sat facing a large, strong-looking man whose face betokened humorous as well as muscular Christianity.
“It’s a crisis, Mr. Bates,” began Ladybird; “it’s a perfectly awful crisis; but of course when crisises come they have to be met, and I’m fully prepared to meet it. I hate it, I hate it something fearful! But I’m going to do right, the whole right, and nothing but the right, and I want you to help me, Mr. Bates. Will you? I pause for a reply.”
Ladybird paused dramatically, and Mr. Bates, impressed with the spirit of the situation, placed his hand on his heart and replied:
“You have only to command me, madam; my time and talents are entirely at your service.”
“Well, you see it’s this way,” said Ladybird. “I have here a dog—a most beautiful and valuable dog—which I want to present to you.”
“To me?” said Mr. Bates, much astonished. “Don’t you care for him yourself?”