“Then we should have five dollars for Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“But would it be much trouble to you to alter the coat?”
“It would be some trouble, but I am willing to take that for my share.”
“Oh! then let's do it,” cried Marty.
“Wait, wait,” said her mother. “You must think it over first. You know when you do things in a hurry, sometimes you regret them afterwards.”
“I know I sha'n't regret this,” Marty protested; “but I'll go and think a while.”
She went and sat down on her last batch of pies, resting her head on her knees, with her eyes shut. In a very short space of time she was back at her mother's side.
“Oh! you have not thought long enough,” said Mrs. Ashford. “I meant for a day or two.”
“There's no use thinking any longer, for I know I'll think just the same. I've thought all about how the coat will look when it's pieced, and how all the girls will know it's pieced, and how I'd a great deal rather have one that isn't pieced. Then I thought how pale and sick Jimmy looks, and how much he wants to go to the country, and how much good it would do him to go, and how he has no nice times as I have, and, I declare, I'd rather wear pieced coats all the rest of my life than not have him go.” She winked her eyes very hard to keep back the tears.