"Did I give you all this?"
"Yes, father."
"Did you pay for what you got, besides?"
"Yes."
He muttered something which was very like an oath in his throat, and looked at his little daughter, who was quietly eating her breakfast. Something touched him unwontedly.
"You're an honest little girl," he said. "There! you may have that for yourself." And he tossed her a shilling.
You could see, by a little streak of pink colour down each of Nettie's cheeks, that some great thought of pleasure had started into her mind. "For myself, father?" she repeated.
"All for yourself," said Mr. Mathieson, buttoning up his money with a very satisfied air.
Nettie said no more, only ate her breakfast a little quicker after that. It was time, too; for the late hours of some of the family always made her in a hurry about getting to Sunday school; and the minute Nettie had done, she got her bonnet—her Sunday bonnet—the best she had to wear—and set off. Mrs. Mathieson never let her wait for anything at home that morning.
This was Nettie's happy time. It never troubled her that she had nothing but a sun-bonnet of white muslin, nicely starched and ironed, while almost all the other girls that came to the school had little straw bonnets trimmed with blue and pink, and yellow and green ribbons; and some of them wore silk bonnets. Nettie did not even think of it; she loved her Sunday lesson, and her Bible, and her teacher, so much; and it was such a pleasant time when she went to enjoy them all together. It was only a little way she had to go, for the road where Mrs. Mathieson lived, after running down a little farther from the village, met another road which turned right up the hill to the church; or Nettie could take the other way, to the main village street, and straight up that. Generally she chose the forked way, because it was the emptiest.