“Here is your money for the milk,” said Carington, “and very good milk it is.”
“My old cow ought to have her share, but she won’t. I guess we none of us know when we get our fairings. She won’t know any more than the rest of us. Did you walk down, Mr. Carington?”
“He was here yesterday. You wouldn’t guess in a week of Sundays what for. He wants to put a wooden slab over those poor children,—just to please that hag. And he asked me to print it for him,—I mean, what will do for the inscription. I tell you I was puzzled. I want you to see if it is all right. He can’t read a word. You see, he means to copy it, and then to please the woman with it.”
“How sad that is!” said Rose. “And he really cares for her?”
“I should think he did! That’s the worst of it.”
“Oh, she isn’t a woman to keep a man straight. She’d have to begin with herself, way back, too.” Then she added, “Who was the woman Macbeth,—_Lady Macbeth_?”
“One of Shakspere’s characters,” said Carington.
“She ‘p’inted’ her man wrong, I can tell you,” laughed Rose. “I can lend you the book.”
“Now, can you? Don’t forget. There’s the writing. I am rather proud of it.” They both considered it gravely.
“Joe says ‘no.’ I guess he thinks it will make too much work.”
“How strange!” said Rose. “And the text is, ‘Of such are the kingdom of heaven.’”
“Yes. How will that do?” said Dorothy. “They were a queer lot, those children,—perfect little fiends, I called them; but I suppose there’s going to be a pretty well mixed up party in that other world. Think I’d like to choose my mansion. It wouldn’t be the nursery. Sakes alive! what was I saying?” Her face became grave, with a look of yearning tenderness in her eyes. “Miss Rose, I oughtn’t to have said that. There would be the very place I should go for first; and only to think I might not get in! Where would I be then? I tell you, Miss Rose, you’ve got to begin pretty early with your tongue, if you want to make it keep all the commandments.”
Carington smiled. “I fancy dumb folks are as bad sinners as we. After all, one slanders the tongue. One does not know half how naughty a thought is until we have put it into speech.”
“Lord! Mr. Carington! There’s a heap of wiseness in that you said. Guess I’ll be set up about talking after that!”