Mrs. Berry smiled. "No," she returned gently. "You are the chief one. Just as soon as your thought is surely right, don't you know that your heavenly Father is going to show you how to unravel this little snarl? You remember there isn't any personality to error, whether it tries to fasten on Ada, or on you."
Lucy sat upright. Her cheeks were still flushed, but her eyes had lost their excited light. "Frank Morse and I are going to take some pretty valentines to Alma's as soon as it is dark," she said.
"That will be pleasant. Now let us read over the lesson for to-day again, and know what a joyous thing life is."
"Well, mother, will you go and see Mrs. Driscoll some time?"
"Certainly I will, Sunday. I suppose she is too busy to see me other days."
In the Singer house another excited child had rushed home from school and sought and found her mother.
Mrs. Singer had just reached a most interesting spot in the novel she was reading, when Ada startled her by running into the room and slamming the door behind her.
"Mother, you know you don't want me to go with the factory people," she cried.
"Of course not. What's the matter?" returned Mrs. Singer briefly, keeping her finger between the leaves of her half-closed book.
"Why, Lucy Berry is angry with me, and I don't care. I shall never go with her again!"