"You'll never go anywhere any quicker for taking such means as that,"
said Aunt Lucretia.
"It would serve you right if we didn't let you go to the
Christmas-tree," declared Aunt Maria, severely, and young Lucretia
quaked. She had had the promise of going to the Christmas-tree for a
long time. It would be awful if she should lose that. She sewed very
diligently on her patchwork. A square a day was her stent, and she had
held up before her the rapture and glory of a whole quilt made all by
herself before she was ten years old.
Half an hour after tea she had the square all done. "I've got it done,"
said she, and she carried it over to her aunt Lucretia that it might be
inspected.
Aunt Lucretia put on her spectacles and looked closely at it. "You've
sewed it very well," she said, finally, in a tone of severe
commendation.
"You can sew well enough if you put your mind to it."
"That's what I've always told her," chimed in Aunt Maria. "There's no
sense in her slighting her work so, and taking the kind of stitches she
does sometimes. Now, Lucretia, it's time for you to go to bed."
Lucretia went lingeringly across the wide old sitting-room, then across
the old wide dining-room, into the kitchen. It was quite a time before
she got her candle lighted and came back, and then she stood about
hesitatingly.
"What are you waiting for?" Aunt Lucretia asked, sharply.
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