“Tessa, Tessa,” whispered a loud whisper behind her, and Sue’s irrepressible lips were close to her ear; “come home to dinner with me; you won’t want to go to Bible class, for Miss Jewett is down to Harrison’s. Father sent for her to go early this morning.”
“Why is she there?”
“Oh, somebody is sick. Felix. Dr. Lake was there in the night and father was going this morning. He was taken crazy, I believe. Come home with me, will you?”
“Very well.”
She found Dine waiting for Norah, and told her that she was going home with Sue, then rejoined Sue at one of the gates.
“I’m awful lonesome Sundays,” began Sue; “Aunt Jane has gone, I told you, didn’t I? A cousin of hers died and left some dozens of young ones and she had to go and take care of them and console the widower. ‘The unconsolable widder of Deacon Bedott will never get married again!’ but she went all the same. She said that she had brought me up far enough to take care of father.”
Sue’s lightness grated all along her nerves.
“Did you like Mary Sherwood’s hat? Too many flowers, don’t you think so? And she will wear light blue with her sallow face! Wasn’t it a queer sermon, too? Don’t you think it is wicked for ministers to frighten people so? He said that we make our own lives, that we choose every day, and that every choice has an influence. You think that I don’t listen because I stare around, don’t you? I sha’n’t forget that ever, because I have just had a choice that will influence my life; and I chose not to do it. It’s hateful to have Miss Jewett away; I won’t go to Bible class, and I won’t let you, either. I have a book to read, or I can go to sleep.”
“Yes, you can go to sleep.”
“I have something to tell you,” said Sue, shyly, hesitating as she glanced into Tessa’s quiet, almost stern, face.