And, look here, Maggie, you can go out
with your young man on Sunday. I'll manage it--I can. I will stay at
home."
"Oh, Miss Carrie, you don't mean it?"
"Yes, I do. I'll manage it; but I'll do it only on a condition."
"What is that miss?"
"That you don't every ask me another question with regard to that
letter, and that you never, never on any account breathe a word of it to
Elma. If you do, why----"
"Oh, Miss, it don't seem fair."
Poor honest Maggie walked to the window and struggled for a few minutes
with her temptation. The thought, however, of roses to add to the
violets, the thought also of Joe, whom she dearly loved, to walk with
her on the following Sunday, proved far too seductive. She struggled
with her enemy for a few minutes, and then she fell once and for all.
"I'll have the roses, Miss Carrie. I can't resist them and the thought
of Joe on Sunday. Joe is so passionate loving, miss, I can't resist
'im." And then Maggie rushed out of the room.
She flew to her attic, threw herself by the side of her bed and burst
into sobs.
"But I oughtn't to 'ave done it," she said several times--"I oughtn't to
'ave done it. If it worn't for the roses and for Joe I'd 'ave stood up
to her; but as it is I was too tempted.
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