"I go when I please," answered the mill girl, pertly. She resented something in the tone of her superintendent, feeling that out of work hours he had no authority over her.
"Oh, of course. By the way, there's the stage just ready for the other end of the village. Do you see it, Miss Amy? The shop mistress, Mrs. Hackett, sends one over every Saturday afternoon to carry our folks free to her place of business. She's an enterprising person, but, unfortunately, as soon as she had adopted this plan, two other merchants of the town set up rival stages also. It's very funny, sometimes, to see the respective drivers' efforts to secure passengers, and therefore custom."
At the mention of stages, Gwendolyn rose and looked through the window. Then she turned toward Amy like a person in great haste.
"Tell the 'Supe' what you came for, Amy, so we can get a ride over,—that is, if you want to go shopping with me after all."
But poor Amy could not reply just then. It had come over her with a rush what her errand really meant to her, and she was wholly indifferent to the charms of a stage or even "shopping."
"Don't wait for me, please,—that is, of course, I will keep my word, but—"
"All right, then, some other day. I'll be up to see how you made out, and if Mr. Metcalf don't want it maybe I'll hear of somebody else who does. By, by. Good day, sir," and off she tore, banging the door and shouting loudly to the driver of Mrs. Hackett's stage.
Mr. Metcalf watched her in silence till she had climbed the steps at the rear of the omnibus, and then he remarked:—
"That girl has so much sense that she ought to have more."