“Don’t do it. ’Twill make you sick—see if it don’t.”
“I guess not, Teddy,” replied Becky, jumping up. “I’m going into the kitchen.”
Teddy followed her as she left the room.
“Teddy,” said Becky, solemnly, after she had softly closed the kitchen door behind them, “I expect we’re awful wicked.”
“Do you, though?” said Teddy, with staring eyes. “What for?”
“Because Sunday’s such a long day. Didn’t you hear what Aunt Hulda said? It’s the Lord’s day, and we can make it short or long, just as we try to do what he wants us to.”
“Well, what’s he want us to do?”
“To go to church, and not stay at home and pitch quates.”
“How are we goin’ to church without clo’es? My elbows are all out; so’s my knees. They’d send us home quick, I tell you.”