‘To be sure it does not seem like merit to feast one’s poor neighbours rather than the rich. It is so much pleasanter.’
‘However, since the poor will be feasted, I don’t think the rich ones will do us much harm.’
‘I am sure I shall know very little about them,’ said Amy.
‘The realities are so great to us, that they will swallow up the accessories. There must be the church, and all that; and for the rest, Amy, I don’t think I shall find out whether you wear lace or grogram.’
‘There’s encouragement for me!’ said Amy, laughing. ‘However, what I mean is, that I don’t care about it, if I am not obliged to attend, and give my mind, to those kind of things just then, and that mamma will take care of.’
‘Is it not a great trouble for her? I forgot that. It was selfish; for we slip out of the fuss, and it all falls on her.’
‘Yes,’ said Amy; ‘but don’t you think it would tease her more to have to persuade papa out of what he likes, and alter every little matter? That would be worry, the rest only exertion; and, do you know, I think,’ said she, with a rising tear, ‘that it will be better for her, to keep her from thinking about losing me.’
‘I see. Very well, we will take the finery quietly. Only one thing, Amy, we will not be put out of,—we will not miss the full holy-day service.’
‘Oh, yes; that will be the comfort.’
‘One other thing, Amy. You know I have hardly a friend of my own; but there is one person I should like to ask,—Markham. He has been so kind, and so much attached to me; he loved my father so devotedly, and suffered so much at his death, that it is a pity he should not be made happy; and very happy he will be.’