Part 23 (1/2)
”Do you mean to say that Mr. Hardman whipped you!”
”Yes, I do. I went over and told him to.”
”Did it hurt?” whispered Allee, with eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g full of sympathy.
”It might have been worse, s'posing he had used a piece of iron instead of a stick.”
Profound silence reigned in the little room. Then Gail said abruptly, ”Come upstairs with me. I want to see you alone.”
Peace glanced apprehensively at the pale face, which looked unusually stern and severe, and said, ”That is a sure-enough receipt, but if you don't b'lieve it, you can ask Mr. Hardman about it.”
”I am not doubting your story in the least,” answered the big sister, smiling in spite of herself, ”but I want to talk to you, dear.”
When Gail said ”dear,” she was never angry, so, without further hesitation, Peace followed her to the small room under the eaves, wondering what was coming next. Gail seated herself in the rickety chair by the window, and drawing the small girl down into her lap, she asked, ”Now what is all this trouble about? Tell sister everything.”
So Peace related the story of the raspberries and her anger at their neighbor, which had led to the painting of the barn.
”What did you write on the building?” questioned Gail when Peace paused at this point in her recital.
”Just the truth. I said, 'Mr. Hardman isn't square.' Then, so's he would know what he wasn't square about, I made a lot of raspberries under the printing.”
”Peace! After Mr. Hartman has been so kind to us! What do you think of a little girl who will do a thing like that!”
”At first I thought she was all right,” answered the candid maiden. ”But now I've changed my mind, and I guess she was pretty bad when she did it. Though he needn't have said what he did to me. He told me we could have the berries.”
”At the same time he warned you about Mr. Skinner's bull.”
”Yes, and I warned Mr. Skinflint--I mean Mr. Skinner.”
”Mr. Skinner is a hot-tempered man, and I am afraid if the Hartmans owe him money, as you say, he will make it very uncomfortable for them.”
”Maybe I better go see old Skinflint--I mean Mr. Skinner--and tell him--”
”No, indeed!” cried Gail in alarm. ”You have done damage enough already.
Promise me that you won't say anything to him about it, Peace.”
”I promise. I ain't anxious to see him anyway, only I thought if it would do any good I would go and tell him how it happened. I am awfully sorry now.”
”Then don't you think you better apologize to Mr. Hartman?”
”Wasn't the licking a napology enough?”
”The whipping only settled your account. It didn't say you were sorry.
And it was wrong to tell him that you hoped he would get his reward in heaven.”
”Why?” cried Peace in genuine astonishment. ”That's what the lame peddler woman always tells you when you buy a paper of needles or pins.”
”That is different. She means what she says. The words are no idle mockery to her. Every penny she can earn, helps her that much, and she is truly grateful--”