"I am not talking about Sally," interrupted Mrs. Train, rather peevishly. "She is dead and gone, poor thing!—all the better for her and for every one else. Moreover, there was never any need of that, either. You might have got her into the Home, or the Hospital, as well as not. It was not as if she had been your own sister. She was no relation to you at all,—only your step-mother's child."
"She was the child of the only mother I ever knew," returned Letty, warmly, "and of one who never let me miss a mother's care so long as she lived; and I would not have left her to be dependent on the charity of strangers,—no, not if I had gone in rags all my life, and worked my fingers to the bone besides. I wish you would not talk about Sally in that way, Aunt Susan. And, now that she is gone, I like to have something for those who are poorer than I am, if it is only for her sake."
"Well, for my part," said Mrs. Train, "I think charity begins at home."
"So do I," replied Letty; "but it need not end there."
"But your bonnet, Letty!" urged Agnes. "Surely you do not mean to wear that black straw, trimmed with bombazine, to church all winter? Do have a new one of some sort."
"I cannot afford it, Agnes; and that is all about it," said Letty, decidedly. "Don't let us talk about such things any more. I do not think it is a very good way of spending Sunday evening. Did you go to church this morning? Dr. Burton preached for us. How did you like him?"
Mrs. Train had not been to church. Agnes had been; but she did not know whether she liked the preacher or not,—though she noticed that he wore a seal-ring, which seemed odd for a minister. She thought the service very long, and the singing not so good as usual. She believed that Mrs. Sampson had on a new India shawl. She thought it looked very odd and affected for Miss Patterson to sit with her Sunday-scholars every Sunday, just as if she wanted every one to see how good she was. The Brown girls had all got new dresses alike,—real Irish poplins, she verily believed. Pretty well, that, for girls who got their living by keeping school. Were their mantles of the same, or of corded silk? She supposed Letty must know, as she sat just behind them.
But Letty did not know. She had been thinking of something besides the Miss Browns. She felt vexed and uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken in spite of her remonstrance, and thought she never would come to her aunt's on Sunday evening again. But they were her only surviving relations, except an old grand-aunt who lived in the country; and she did not like to quarrel with them, though they had so little in common.
Presently John Caswell came in, to go to church with Letty. She had not seen him since she had made the new arrangement; and she had, therefore, told him nothing about it. Mrs. Train, however, pounced upon him at once.
"Well, John, Letty has been promoted. I expect she will soon be too grand to speak to any of us. You did not think you were going to make such a great match as to marry a kitchen-girl, did you?"