"I should be with delight, if I could make that dream a reality."
"I gave you credit for more sense. But, business—that donkey. How much did Mr. Metcalf intend to pay for it?"
"I suppose the same as he did for Pepita. Seventy-five dollars—burro, harness, and all."
"At ten dollars a month, that would take you along well into next summer. Tell Hallam that I will keep the animal and allow him eight months' rent for it. That's giving you a half month, you see. Will you?"
"Yes, I'll tell him," answered she, with a catch in her voice. "Only I had hoped to take him home with me. It would have made such a delightful Christmas for us all. You don't know how much we love those pretty creatures."
"Pretty! Opinions differ."
"And would it be quite right to make any such arrangements, after having asked the superintendent to buy it, and he agreeing? Wouldn't he be the one to say something about it?"
"Amy, you're incorrigible. You're a radical. A thing is either absolutely right or it is absolutely wrong—according to your standard. You'll be in trouble as long as you live, for you'll find nobody else with such antiquated notions as yours. There are a great many things that are expedient."
"I hate expedient things. I like just the easy, simple 'no' and 'yes' that was my darling mother's rule. I'm glad I'm at least a birthright Friend."
Mr. Wingate was silent. He seemed to drop into a profound reverie, and the girl hesitated to disturb him, eager as she now was to be away. Finally, as she had made up her mind to speak, he did so himself.