she had.

"My grief!" Aunt Olivia ejaculated in her surprise. What would the
child ask next? "Am I well off? If you mean rich, no, I ain't."

"Oh! Then you're--why, I didn't think about your being poor!
I shouldn't have thought of asking--that makes a great difference.
I never thought of THAT!"

She was off before Aunt Olivia had fully recovered her breath, and
the stumping of her heavy little shoes going upstairs was the only
distinctly audible sound. In her own room Rebecca Mary stopped,
panting.

Oh, I'm glad I didn't get as far as ASKING!" she breathed aloud.
"I never thought about her being poor--of course then I wouldn't ask!"

But she squared her shoulders and stood up, straight and unashamed.
For she had vindicated herself. She had been ready to ask. She could
look that other little girl of the sheets in the face. The Other
Little Girl was there, coming to meet her as she advanced to the
little looking glass above the table. But Rebecca Mary waved her
back peremptorily.

"Go right back!" she said. "I only came to tell you I wasn't a coward
--that's all. Good-bye. For I'm not coming any more. You're sorry
I'm homely, and I'm sorry you are, but it doesn't do any good for us
to look at each other and groan. It will make us unsatisfied. So I
shall turn you back to the wall--good-bye."