Mother said nothing, but when her trunk was unpacked she brought forth,
in triumph, a specimen of her handiwork.
"Aunt Hildy," I called, "come and give her a scolding."
She came, and with Clara and myself, was soon busy in trying to find out
how the mat--for this was the name of the article--was made.
"How on airth did you do it, and what with?"
"Why don't you find out?" said mother.
"For only one reason, _I can't_," said Aunt Hildy.
"It is made of pieces of old flannel and carpet that Phebe got hold of
somehow. We cut them bias and sewed them on through the middle, the
foundation being a canvas bag, leaving the edges turned up."
"Well, I declare," said Aunt Hildy; "but you had no right to work."
My mind was sorely troubled, and when, in about a week after Mr.
Benton's departure, I received a long letter from him, I felt worse than
before. I blamed myself greatly, and still these wrong steps I had taken
were all only sins of omission. It was for Clara's sake; for Hal's sake;
and last, but not least, I could not say to Mr. Benton, as I would have
wished to, that my love was in Louis' keeping, for you remember I had
met Louis' advances with fear, and he had said, "I will wait one year."
How could I then say positively what I did not know? Louis was growing
older, and my fears might prove all real, and I should only subject
myself to mortification, and at the same time, as I really believed,
cause Mr. Benton sorrow.
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