“Let them believe it or not, just as they have a mind to,” said her mother.
“They think I'm telling stories.”
“What have you been telling about your ring in school for, when you ought to have been studying? Now, Comfort, I can't have you standing there teasing me any longer. I've got to get these biscuits into the oven; they must have some supper before they go home. You go right out and set the table. Get the clean table-cloth out of the drawer, and you may put on the best knives and forks. Not another word. You can't wear that gold ring until your hand grows to it, and that settles it.”
Comfort went out and set the table, but she looked so dejected that the company all noticed it. She could not eat any of the hot biscuits when they sat down to supper, and she did not eat much of the company cake. “You don't feel sick, do you, child?” asked her grandmother, anxiously.
“No, ma'am,” replied Comfort, and she swallowed a big lump in her throat.
“She ain't sick,” said her mother, severely. “She's fretting because she can't wear her gold ring to school.”
“O Comfort, you must wait till your hand grows to it,” said her Aunt Susan.
“Yes, of course she must,” said her Uncle Ebenezer.
“Eat your supper, and your hand will grow to it before long,” said her father, who, left to himself, would have let Comfort wear the ring.
“It wouldn't do for you to wear that ring and lose it. It's real gold,” said her grandmother. “Have another piece of the sweet-cake.”