“Worse than that,” I answered.
THE CROWN OF MARTYRDOM
“Then I think I’ll wait a little,” replied Bess, with composure, “before I change; for I should not like a crown after losing my teeth, or worse, or even jam-rolly, if I had to take tumblers of horrid physic first. And I have heard Burbidge say that, ‘them as wins a crown must walk on hot ploughshares first.’ Still,” she added, “I should sometimes like to be good.”
“How about doing disagreeable things, Bess? For I fear, at first, that is what has to be done.”
“Well, mama,” answered Bess, “not too good; not good enough to die, but just good enough to get a little more money for good marks than I have ever got before.”
And I saw by Bess’s saucy smile that the day was a long, long way off when she would ever be what she calls very, very good, i.e.—
Never dirty her hands;
Never ruffle her hair; and
Never answer back those in authority.