“Aunt Hulda said this was the Lord’s work,” answered Becky, meekly. “I was only trying to make the day short and pleasant.”
“Well, if it’s the Lord’s work, you’ve made a botch of it; and if he sent you here, he made a mistake in the house.”
“Don’t talk so, Teddy; it’s wicked.”
“It’s wickeder to have to lug that basket way round home again. I won’t do it. Let’s chuck it in the water.”
“No, no, Teddy; let’s take it home. I wouldn’t have believed Silly York could be so mean. Poor as they are, too!”
“I should think so! Folks don’t get sardines and currant wine every day.”
“Come, let’s go the shortest way, Teddy.”
They took up the basket, and started homeward. The shortest way was by the main street, and as they entered it they met the people coming from church. So, with down-cast faces, the disappointed almoners ran the gantlet of wondering eyes, attracted by the uncommon sight of two poorly-dressed youngsters lugging a heavy basket on Sunday.
For the first time in her life Becky was mortified at the condition in which she found herself. As she passed neatly-dressed girls of her own age, and heard the laughter which they took no pains to suppress, her old, defiant manner failed to assert itself, and she hung her head in shame. To add to her humiliation, when they reached the church, Captain Thompson was standing on the steps talking with the sexton.