“Yes, indeed; and your sister, too, and she shan’t be turned out of doors, if she ever feels like bringing something nice to a poor sick man,” said Mr. York.
“Don’t, father, speak of such a thing,” cried Jenny. “She’s done enough for us. Don’t take such a message as that, Teddy, but tell her we all love her dearly, and will never think of her but as the best girl in Cleverly.”
“That’s so, Jenny. I knew folks would find out how clever she is,” said Teddy, “and she’s my sister. Good by. I really must be going,” and he started for the door. Outside he found Spotty impatiently pulling at his tether, and jumping into the wagon he started off. As he drove into the main street he found a group of men and boys discussing the fire, and by their motions enacting the scene in which Becky had taken a prominent part. Further on another group with the same subject under consideration, and a third were on the steps of the church. As he passed he could hear his sister’s name spoken by one and another. In a cheerful spirit, with his hungry foe completely vanquished, it is no wonder that Teddy’s heart glowed at the praises he heard, and felt proud of its connection with the heroine of the day.
And Becky; how bore she her triumph? Quietly she entered the house and took her place at her mother’s side.
“No more work to-day, mother, or for many days. The mill is burned to the ground.”
“Nobody hurt, Becky?” with an anxious look, said the mother.
“No, all safe and sound. Nobody lost anything but Mr. Small.”
Aunt Hulda entered the room at that moment.
“What’s that, Becky? Where have you been? Dinner’s cold as a stone.”