“Are you quite sure of that?”
“Sure, indeed! How could I help it?”
“Then, Eoa, you cannot help being more like a Christian than I am. I am very persistent, and steadily bitter to any one who wrongs me. You are far better than I am, Eoa; because you cannot hate any one.”
“I donʼt know about being better, Amy; I only know that I donʼt hate any one—with all my heart I mean—except Mrs. Nowell Corklemore.”
Here Amy could not help laughing at Eoaʼs method of proving her rule; and the other took advantage of it to make her sit down, and kiss her, and beg her pardon a dozen times, because she was such a little savage; and then to open her own lunch–basket, and spread a white cloth, and cover it with slices of rusk and reindeerʼs tongue, and hearted lettuce, and lemonade, and a wing of cold duck at the corner.
“I left it to Hoggy,” she cried in triumph, “and he has deserved my confidence. Beat that if you can now, my darling.”
“Oh, I can beat that out and out,” said Amy, who still was crying, just a drop now and then, because her emotions were “persistent:” then she smiled, because she knew so well no old butler could touch her in catering; but I must not tell what Amy had, for fear of making people hungry. Only in justice it should be said that neither basket went home full; for both the young ladies were “hearty;” and they kissed one another in spite of the stuffing.
“Oh, Amy, I do love you so, whenever you donʼt scold me. I am sure I was meant for a Christian. Hereʼs that nasty sneakʼs lawn handkerchief. I picked her pocket this morning. I do twice a week for practice. But I wonʼt wipe your pretty eyes with it, darling, because I do so loathe her. Now, if you please, no more crying, Amy. What a queer thing you are!”
“Most truly may I return the compliment,” answered Amy, smiling through the sparkle of her tears. “But you donʼt mean to say that you keep what you steal?”
“Oh no; it is not worth it. And I hate her too much to keep anything. Last week I lit the fire in my dressing–room, on purpose to burn her purse. You should have seen the money melting. I took good care, of course, not to leave it in the ashes, though. I am forming quite a collection of it; for I donʼt mind keeping it at all, when it has been through the fire. And you canʼt think how pretty it is, all strings and dots of white and yellow.”