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Show 86 U. of U. Chronicle Year Book fixed eyes ; then, as the girl came to the door, she rose hastily, and crept past to bed. All next day, the two went through their routine, in their ordinary uncommunicative silence. They would not have spoken of the money, even if they had been able to, on Sunday. The)' went to church, as usual; but the Sabbath calm of the little meeting house met no response in Mrs. Johnson's heart. The windows were open, and the warm sunshine flooded in upon the bare floor and unpainted benches; the peaceful stillness without, made the drone of the minister and even the choir's cracked voices seem wonderfully solemn and impressive; at intervals, rose and fell the liquid notes of a meadow lark. Mrs. Johnson did not see or hear; her face worked, to think that 'Liza could sit there so unmoved; she forgot to hide the holes in her black gloves, or to care that her shawl was shabby-things which before had done a great deal to embitter her Sundays. After church, Dave joined them, and the three walked home through the quiet green fields,-the young people talking quite decorously, as became a Sunday, of Dave's new job as first teamster, and of his employer's crops. Dave picked some daisies, and offered them to 'Liza for the withered yellow rose at her belt, and she put the rose in his button hole, with a shv red in her cheeks. It was hard to tell him about the social; but when her mother left them at the gate, she did tell him. She would give no reason, and he would not understand; he pulled out her rose and threw it down, and flung off, angrily. He looked very handsome as he did it; the girl watched him out of sight before she turned to go into the house. "I don't care!" she said to herself, doggedly, "I don't care!" Her shoulders slouched more than usual, and her step was more spiritless. The day wore on, and once 'Liza tried to hint about the money. "You ain't no call to worry over the carpet, ma," she began, awkwardly. "I guess there's worse things to bear than goin' without carpets!" Her mother picked up a pan of scraps for the chickens, and went out abruptly, her thin lips tight compressed, and quivering. "She'll find it out tomorrow," thought the girl. In the evening, 'Liza read the Bible, according to custom. Her mother sat bolt upright and rigid, listening to the slow, labored reading; her soul rebelled against it; it seemed like sacrilege. It was a relief when it was over. The nervous little woman was all unstrung next morning; she could not eat, or keep the tears back; and after the constrained, silent breakfast was over, she spoke, in a hurried, unnatural voice: "You could ha' asked for the money, 'Liza. You could ha' had it, ef you asked." Her voice rose high, and trembled. "I wanted you to 'hev the dress,-you needn't hev took the money,-it was stealin'!" 'Liza looked up, puzzled, bewildered: gradually, she understood. A deep red flew to her cheeks; she stood up, in her full height, her head thrown back, her eyes burning; she looked almost pretty. |
