Now, for what are we
about--"
"Oh, papa thanked for me," cried Betty. "Didn't you, papa?"
The Governor smiled; but catching his wife's eyes, he quickly forced his
benign features into a frowning mask.
"Do as your aunt tells you, Betty," said Mrs. Ambler, and Betty got up and
said grace, while Virginia took the brownest waffle. When the thanksgiving
was ended, she turned indignantly upon her sister. "That was just a sly,
mean trick!" she cried in a flash of temper. "You saw my eye on that
waffle!"
"My dear, my dear," murmured Miss Lydia.
"She's des an out'n out fire bran', dat's w'at she is," said Uncle
Shadrach.
"Well, the Lord oughtn't to have let her take it just as I was thanking Him
for it!" sobbed Betty, and she burst into tears and left the table,
upsetting Mr. Bill's coffee cup as she went by.
The Governor looked gravely after her. "I'm afraid the child is really
getting spoiled, Julia," he mildly suggested.
"She's getting a--a vixenish," declared Mr. Bill, mopping his expansive
white waistcoat.
"You des better lemme go atter a twig er willow, Marse Peyton," muttered
Uncle Shadrach in the Governor's ear.
"Hold your tongue, Shadrach," retorted the Governor, which was the harshest
command he was ever known to give his servants.
Virginia ate her waffle and said nothing. When she went upstairs a little
later, she carried a pitcher of buttermilk for Betty's face.
"It isn't usual for a young lady to have freckles, Aunt Lydia says," she
remarked, "and you must rub this right on and not wash it off till
morning--and, after you've rubbed it well in, you must get down on your
knees and ask God to mend your temper.
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