"I wish I could," Barby broke forth at last, "if it was only for your sake."
"Dear Barby," said Fleda, "you can do this for me--you can go to church and hear what Mr. Olmney says. I should go away happier if I thought you would, and if I thought you would follow what he says; for dear Barby there is a time coming when you will wish you were a Christian more than you do now; and not for my sake."
"I believe there is, Fleda."
"Then will you?--won't you give me so much pleasure?"
"I'd do a'most anything to do you a pleasure."
"Then do it, Barby."
"Well, I'll go," said Barby. "But now just think of that, Fleda, how you might have stayed in Queechy all your days and done what you liked with everybody. I'm glad you ain't, though; I guess you'll be better off."
Fleda was silent upon that.
"I'd like amazingly to see how you'll be fixed," said Barby after a trifle of ruminating. "If 'twa'n't for my old mother I'd be 'most a mind to pull up sticks and go after you."
"I wish you could, Barby; only I am afraid you would not like it so well there as here."