“Nothing new, I don’t suppose. And Clif, he says that he don’t believe but what Jacob’ll do the right thing, and he says he’ll see to it himself.”
“There, that’ll do,” interrupted Miss Betsey. “If Clifton Holt was to tell you that white was black you’d believe him.”
“I’d consider it,” said Ben, gravely.
“If you want any supper it’s in the cupboard,” said Miss Betsey, rising, “I’ve had supper and dinner too, up to Mr Fleming’s, and we went to meeting at the Scott school-house. It wasn’t Clif’s fault this time, Aunt Betsey, and we haven’t done anything very bad either. And Clif, he’s going to be awful steady, I expect, and stick to his books more than a little, and he sent his respects to you, Aunt Betsey, and he says—”
“There, that’ll do. Go to bed if you don’t want to drive me crazy.”
“I’ll go to bed right off if you’ll come and take away my candle, Aunt Betsey. No, I don’t want a candle; but if you’ll come in and tuck me up as you used to, for I haven’t been doing anything this time, nor Clif either. Will you, Aunt Betsey?”
“Well, hurry up, then,” said Aunt Betsey, with a break in her voice, “for this day has been long enough for two, and I’m thankful it’s done,” and then she added to herself:
“I sha’n’t worry about him if I can help it. But it is so much more natural for boys to go wrong than to go right, that I can’t help it by spells. After all I’ve seen, it isn’t strange either.”
“Ben,” said she, when she took his candle in a little while, “you mustn’t think you haven’t done wrong because the day turned out better than it might have done. It only happened so. It was Sabbath-breaking all the same to leave meeting and go up the river. There, I aint going to begin again. But wrong is wrong, and sin is sin whichever way it ends.”
“That’s so,” said Ben, penitently.