"You do, too," insisted the old lady. "You're eating your heart out.
I know. I was young once."
Amos looked up from his paper. "Lydia's too young to go if they did ask her. But why don't they ask?"
"It's because I'm too poor and I live so far out and I don't spoon," answered Lydia. "I don't care, I tell you." And just to prove that she didn't care, Lydia bowed her face in her hands and began to cry.
A look of real pain crossed Amos' face. He got up hastily and went to
Lydia's side.
"Why, my little girl, I thought you were perfectly happy this year. And your clothes look nice to me." He smoothed Lydia's bright hair with his work-scarred hand. "I tell you, I'll borrow some money, by heck, and get you some clothes!"
Lydia raised a startled face. "No! No! I'd rather go in rags than borrow money. We're almost out of debt now and we'll stay out. Don't borrow, Daddy," her voice rising hysterically. "Don't borrow!" Adam began to howl.
"All right, dearie, all right!" said Amos.
"I'm an old fool to have said anything," groaned Lizzie. "What does it matter when she's the best scholar in her class and everybody, teachers and boys and girls alike, loves her."
Lydia wiped her eyes and hugged her father, then Adam and then Lizzie.
"I've got John Levine, anyhow," she said.