necessary, leave her politely, and come home."

Susy called up all her courage when she entered Mrs. Lovejoy's house,
and saw that lady sitting very erect on a sofa, with a bleak face, which
looked somehow as if a north-east wind had blown over it, and frozen it.

"Well, little girl," said she, without waiting for ceremony, "so you
call my Annie all the bad names you can think of, it seems. Is that the
way you are brought up?"

"I didn't call her names, ma'am; she ate the cake, but I was willing,"
replied Susy, calmly and respectfully, though she trembled from head to
foot. There was one thought which sustained Susy; she was telling the
truth, and that was just what God wanted her to do.

"Well," said Mrs. Lovejoy, "I must say you're a dignified little piece!
Do you know you've done the same thing as to tell me I lie?"

This was just the way _Annie_ had spoken; warping innocent words, and
making them the occasion of a quarrel.

Susy could think of nothing which seemed exactly right to say to Mrs.
Lovejoy in reply; so she wisely held her peace.

"Yes, miss, you've insulted my child, and, as if that were not enough,
you come over here, deliberately, and insult _me_, in my own house!"

Tears sprang to Susy's eyes, but she resolutely crushed them back.
There was, in her childish mind, a certain sense of self-respect, which
made her unwilling to cry in the presence of such a person as Mrs.