“The letter only refers to business of mine—not to that of any one else,” said Hattie, gently but firmly.
“You’ll not answer it now, will you? I might mail it early, you know, when I go out for milk, for I’m first up in the house.”
“I shall not answer it to-night, Miss Scrimp. I am very tired, and am going right to bed. I thank you for your kind offer as much as if I accepted it.”
Beaten at every point, and so gently and graciously that she could not take offense, Miss Scrimp took up her lamp with a sigh, and said:
“Poor, dear thing, I know you must be tired. If your brother is getting rich, as he must be, there in that land of silver and gold, I should think he’d send for you to go to him.”
“Good-night, kind Miss Scrimp—good-night,” was all that Hattie answered, as she made a motion toward preparing for bed.
“Good-night, dear—good-night,” said Miss Scrimp, a little snappishly, for she had made that long, upstair journey for nothing.
The door closed, and poor Hattie was alone.
And tears came into her eyes now, and she knelt down and prayed.
“Heavenly Father, aid me and tell me what to do.”