"I hope so too," said Bessie, reprovingly. "That's quite worse enough," and she and Maggie walked out of the farmyard, and turned into the lane which led up to the house.
"Hallo!" John called out, mischievously; "if you feel so bad about Dolly, why don't you ask your father or uncle to go up and see after her?"
Neither of the little girls turned their heads, but walked straight on in the most dignified silence, followed by the sound of John's merriment.
"That's a little too much," said Maggie, when they were beyond hearing; "idea of papa or Uncle Ruthven staying all night in that dirty place!"
Bessie did not like the idea either, but her little head was puzzled. If she thought it right for John Porter to go, ought she not to think it right for her papa or uncle? She did not at all thank John for putting the thought into her head: it was fresh cause of offence against him; but now that it was there, she could not shut it out.
"Maggie," she said, "I wonder if we ought not to put it into papa's or Uncle Ruthven's mind?"
"Pooh! no," said Maggie; "they've sense enough to think it out for themselves if they ought to go: but I don't think John Porter is very sensible; do you?"
"I guess I won't say he's unsensible just now," said Bessie. "I'm 'fraid I feel 'most too mad."
"What difference does that make?" asked Maggie.
"'Cause mamma said, when I was angry it was better not to say unkind things about a person; and then when I was pleased with them again I would see that the unkind things were only in my own heart, and not quite true. She didn't say just those very words, but that was what she meant."