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“What are you over here again for, child?” Aunt Lucretia cried when she went in.

Aunt Lucretia and Henrietta were in the kitchen, sticking papers over the jelly tumblers.

Nancy hesitated, and blushed.

“What is it?” asked Aunt Lucretia.

“I–didn’t know but–what–you might have got–that bill changed.”

“Why, I never saw such an acting child! Can’t you wait a minute? Henrietta, have you got any change?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Henrietta. And she got her purse, and they counted out forty-two cents. Twenty-two of them were in pennies.

“Now I hope you’re satisfied,” said Aunt Lucretia, sharply. “Did your mother know you came over here?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, you’re a naughty girl. I’m surprised at you. I sha’n’t want to hire you to pick berries again if this is the way you do. Go right home, and mind you tell your mother you’ve been here.”

The forty-two cents, twenty-two of which were pennies, jingled and weighed heavily in Nancy’s pocket. She was not happy going home. She had meditated going to the Indian encampment that night to buy the basket, but it looked so dark over the fields that she was afraid to; so she went straight home. Her mother had returned from the neighbor’s; there she stood in the front door, watching for her.

“Nancy Mann, I want to know where you’ve been,” she cried out, as soon as Nancy opened the gate.

“Over to–Aunt Lucretia’s.”

“You went over there, after all the times I told you not to?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What for?”

“I wanted my–forty-two cents.”

“Forty-two cents! What do you suppose your Aunt Lucretia thinks of you, dunning her up this way? Now you come in and light your candle, and go straight up-stairs to bed.”

It was only half-past eight o’clock. Nancy went to bed. Flora sat up and read her story-book, and did not go up-stairs until after nine. Nancy pretended to be asleep when she came in, but she was not. She did not go to sleep for an hour after that. She lay there and cried softly, and planned.

The next morning was very pleasant. It was Sunday, and all the family went to church. After church, Nancy and Flora went to Sunday-school. Sunday-school was out about one o’clock; then they walked homeward together. Nancy lagged behind, and Flora kept waiting for her.

“Go along; do,” said Nancy. “I want to pick these flowers.”

Flora wondered innocently what Nancy wanted to pick so many flowers for. The flowers were mostly yarrow and arnica blossoms, and Flora had always regarded them as the very commonest kind of weeds.

They were quite near home, when Nancy climbed swiftly over the stone-wall and lay down behind it. Flora went on without turning her head. Nancy had spoken so shortly to her that her feelings were hurt. When she went into the house her aunt asked where Nancy was.

“She’s coming,” said Flora. “She stopped to pick flowers.”

But it was a half-hour before Nancy came. Running as fast as she could over the meadows, it took some time to reach the Indian encampment and return. When she finally approached the house, her mother stood in the doorway, watching. She did not say a word until she came close to her.

“Where have you been?” she inquired.

Nancy hung her head, and was still. She kept one hand behind her.

“Answer me this minute.”

“Down to–the Injuns.”

“What for? What are you holding behind you?”

Nancy did not answer.

“Bring your hand round!” commanded her mother.

Nancy slowly swung around the hand holding the sweet-grass basket.

“Did you go down to the Injuns to-day, and spend that money you earned for that basket?” asked her mother.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her mother looked at her. The tears were streaming over her hot cheeks and her scratched nose; her best hat had slipped back, and the brim was bent; there was a great green stain on the front of her best dress, and a rent on the side.

“I can never get that green off your dress in the world,” said her mother. “You’ll have to wear it so. Going down to the Injuns to buy baskets on Sunday, in your best dress and hat! And you went so Flora shouldn’t get it. I can see right through you. Now, Nancy Mann, you just march straight back with that basket. You ain’t going to do any trading on the Sabbath day while you belong to me.”