Mary squeezed mamma’s hand very tight. She was beginning to see she had been rather silly.
“I won’t do like that again,” she said. “When I’m a big girl I won’t be frightened. But, please, mamma, let me always stay ’aside you when we go to shops.”
When they got to the confectioner’s, they found the young woman there very sorry about Mary having run away, as she felt she should have taken better care of her. The stout lady and her children were still there, and the lady was looking very ashamed, for the confectioner had been telling her that Mary was little Miss Bertram of the Priory—the Priory was the name of Mary’s home—and that Mrs Bertram would be very vexed. So the rude boy’s mother came up with a very red face, and told Mary’s mamma if they had only known who the young lady was, they would never have made so free as to disturb her. Mary’s mamma listened gravely, and then she said, “I think you should teach your son to be gentle and polite to everybody, especially little girls, whoever they are. Of course I know he did not mean to hurt her, but she is accustomed to her brothers behaving very nicely to her at home.”
Then she turned away rather coldly, and the children and their mother looked very red and ashamed, and just then the victoria came up to the door, with the two pretty bay horses, all so smart and nice. And mamma took Mary’s hand to lead her away. But Mary pulled it out of hers for a moment and ran back to the boy.
“Please, don’t be sorry any more,” she said. “I were a silly little girl, but I don’t mind now,” and she held out her hand. The boy took it and mumbled something about “beg your pardon.” And then Mary got up into the carriage beside mamma.
“I am glad you did that, Mary dear,” she said; “I hope it will make the boy remember.”
“And I were a silly little girl,” said Mary, as she nestled up to her mamma.
They did not talk very much going home. Mary was rather tired, and I think she must have had a little nap on the way; for she looked all right again, and her eyes were scarcely at all red when they drove up to the door of Mary’s own dear house. There were Leigh and Artie waiting for them; they had heard the carriage coming and they ran up to the door to be there to help their mamma and Mary out, and to tell them how glad they were to see them again.
“Tea’s all ready waiting,” said Leigh; “and, oh, mamma—we were wondering—nurse has put out a ’nextra cup just in case. Would you come up and have tea with us? Then we could hear all about all you’ve been buying and everything, for Mary mightn’t remember so well.”
“I don’t think I’d forget,” said Mary; “on’y we have had lotses of ’ventures. Doesn’t it seem a long, long time since we started off after dinner? I would like mamma to have tea with us!”