Suddenly the child bent over. She carefully set down the little pink beribboned basket in which she had carried the flowers to the sick playmate, drew a tiny handkerchief from her pocket, and spreading it in the basket she took off her gloves and was carefully lifting the lumps of coal one by one, when she had two interruptions. The first came from two ladies, neighbors, who were going to their homes near by. The Judge saw them stop and speak to Bethany, then he opened the window.
In unconcealed amusement they were asking her what she was going to do with the coal.
She seemed to be shyly evading their questions, and as they passed on the Judge heard one of them say, in a clear voice, “How curious it is that a black, dirty thing like coal should have such a fascination for the average child!”
Bethany’s second interruption was not so easily put off. Mrs. Blodgett, whose keen eyes surveyed not only the interior of the Judge’s mansion but also its exterior and the avenue on which it was situated, had espied the stray lamb, and the Judge saw her fat figure descending the steps with considerable agility and pouncing upon Bethany.
“Here, dear child,” she said, “come into the house this minute.”
Bethany protested slightly, but Mrs. Blodgett calmly seized the basket, turned it upside down, took her by the hand, and led her into the house.
Just before they arrived outside his study the Judge closed the window and went inside beside his fire.
“Sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett, knocking on the half-open door, “can you speak to this little girl?”
“Come in,” he said, and Mrs. Blodgett walked in, still holding Bethany, who looked disturbed and a little rebellious.
“Now, sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett, decidedly, “I wish you would speak to this little girl, for she don’t mind me. I’m tellin’ her all the time that, though you don’t like wastefulness, yet meanness is hateful to you, and she do the strangest things. She picks up coal and little bits of sticks for the fire, an’ she goes round an’ smells the soap—”