I was still leaning against the tree-trunk when the moon began to peep
over the eastern mountains, and I vowed by its rising that before it
came up in its full, Georgia and I should be in Sacramento.
I heard grandma's call from the door, which she opened and quickly
closed, and I knew by experience that I should find a lighted candle on
the table, and that no one would be in the room to say good-night. I
slept little, but when I arose in the morning I was no longer trouble
tossed. I knew what I would say to grandma if she should give me the
chance.
Grandpa, who had come home very late, did not know what had happened,
and he and I breakfasted with the men, and grandma and the Steins came
after we left the room. No one offered to help me that morning, still I
got through my duties before grandma called me to her. She seemed more
hurt than angry, and began by saying:
"On account of thy bad conduct, Mrs. Stein is going to shorten her
stay. She is going to leave on Tuesday, and wants me to go with her.
She says that she has kept back the worst things that thou hast told
about me, but will tell them to me on the road."
Trembling with indignation, I exclaimed, "Oh, grandma, thou hast always
told us that it is wrong to speak of the faults of a guest in the
house, but what dost thou think of one who hath done what Mrs. Stein
hath done? I did say some of the things she told thee, but I did not
say them in that way.
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