There would have been something comical, if it had not been sad, in the way the little girl looked up and said, "You and I."
"I guess we will!" said Maria, with opening eyes. "You and I! Take care of the house, and wash the dishes, and cook the dinner, and everything! You know we couldn't, Matilda; and what's more, I know we won't."
"Yes, mamma wishes it. We must; and so we can, Maria."
"I can't," said Maria, taking down her school cloak.
"But, Maria! we must. Mamma will be more sick if we do not; you heard what Aunt Candy said at breakfast, that she is fearfully nervous; and if she hears that there is a hired girl in the house, it will worry her dreadfully."
"It will be Aunt Candy's fault then," said Maria, fastening her cloak. "I never heard of anybody so mean in all my life!—never."
"But that don't help anything, Maria. And you and I must do what mamma said. You know we shall have little enough to live on, as it is, and if you take the pay of a hired girl out of it, there will be so little left."
"I've got my twenty-five dollars, that I can get summer dresses with; I am glad I haven't spent it," said Maria. "Come, Tilly; I'm going home."
"But, Maria, you have not said what you ought to say yet."
"What ought I to say?"