“Oh, no, my dear! Some of them tried hard to have their wrongs redressed. Some day I will tell you more about it, but now I hear Mrs. Coote calling you.”
CHAPTER X.
Ethel had been greatly interested in Mrs. Weston’s story of Washington and the Revolution. She was eager to hear more, and found both ladies of the Keith family kindly ready to gratify her whenever she was allowed to carry her needlework over there instead of doing it in the room in the parsonage appropriated to the use of herself, brother, and sisters. She was given very little time for recreation, so could not read much for herself on that or any other subject; perceiving which, Mrs. Weston often read to her, pausing now and then to explain anything the little girl did not seem to entirely comprehend, so helping the child to a great deal of information which at that time she could have gained in no other way.
Ethel was very grateful; and, loving, generous little soul that she was, wanted others to share her pleasure; so repeated to Harry and the little sisters all she thought they could understand of what she had learned from the ladies. Also, supposing that Mrs. Coote was well read on the subject, she ventured to ask some questions of her.
“I know nothing about those old times in this country, and what’s more, I don’t want to know; so let me hear no more about it,” was the ungracious rejoinder, and Ethel dared not venture another word.
“You’re no American,” Mrs. Coote went on presently, “so why should you care about those old stories?”
“I—I believe I’m half American,” Ethel returned hesitatingly. “I was born in Jamaica and so was my dear mamma.”
“Eh! I didn’t know that before. But Jamaica is only a tolerably large island, and though it’s on this side the ocean it belongs to England. And your father was born in old England, wasn’t he?”
“Yes: and I like England, but Cousin George says as we’ve come to America to live for the rest of our lives, we’re Americans now.”
“Humph! So as you behave well I for one don’t care whether you are Americans or English,” returned. Mrs. Coote; and there the conversation dropped.