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Page 35
"There wasn't any water in it," replied Flora.
Her high, childish forehead was contracted slightly with a puzzled
frown as she looked at her aunt.
"Wasn't any water in it?"
"No, ma'am."
"Didn't I see you filling the pitcher with water not ten minutes
ago, I want to know?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What did you do with that water?"
"Nothing."
"Did you carry that pitcherful of water up to that room and set it
on the washstand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Didn't you spill it?"
"No, ma'am."
"Now, Flora Scott, I want the truth! Did you fill that pitcher
with water and carry it up there, and wasn't there any there when
she came to use it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Let me see that pitcher." Sophia examined the pitcher. It was
not only perfectly dry from top to bottom, but even a little dusty.
She turned severely on the young girl. "That shows," said she,
"you did not fill the pitcher at all. You let the water run at the
side because you didn't want to carry it upstairs. I am ashamed of
you. It's bad enough to be so lazy, but when it comes to not
telling the truth--"
The young girl's face broke up suddenly into piteous confusion, and
her blue eyes became filmy with tears.
"I did fill the pitcher, honest," she faltered, "I did, Aunt
Sophia. You ask Aunt Amanda."
"I'll ask nobody. This pitcher is proof enough. Water don't go
off and leave the pitcher dusty on the inside if it was put in ten
minutes ago. Now you fill that pitcher full quick, and you carry
it upstairs, and if you spill a drop there'll be something besides
talk."
Flora filled the pitcher, with the tears falling over her cheeks.
She sniveled softly as she went out, balancing it carefully against
her slender hip. Sophia followed her.
"Stop crying," said she sharply; "you ought to be ashamed of
yourself. What do you suppose Miss Louisa Stark will think. No
water in her pitcher in the first place, and then you come back
crying as if you didn't want to get it."
In spite of herself, Sophia's voice was soothing. She was very
fond of the girl. She followed her up the stairs to the chamber
where Miss Louisa Stark was waiting for the water to remove the
soil of travel. She had removed her bonnet, and its tuft of red
geraniums lightened the obscurity of the mahogany dresser. She had
placed her little beaded cape carefully on the bed. She was
replying to a tremulous remark of Amanda's, who was nearly fainting
from the new mystery of the water-pitcher, that it was warm and she
suffered a good deal in warm weather.
Louisa Stark was stout and solidly built. She was much larger than
either of the Gill sisters. She was a masterly woman inured to
command from years of school-teaching. She carried her swelling
bulk with majesty; even her face, moist and red with the heat, lost
nothing of its dignity of expression.
She was standing in the middle of the floor with an air which gave
the effect of her standing upon an elevation. She turned when
Sophia and Flora, carrying the water-pitcher, entered.
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