The person who rang the door-bell was Mrs. Vance's girl Susan, who
called for Jennie to go home and try on a frock. Jennie did not
return, and Dotty had a sense of uneasiness all day. The guilty secret
of the three dollars weighed upon her mind. Should she, or should she
not, tell her grandmother?
"I don't know but Jennie would do something to my things if I told,"
thought she; "but then I never promised a word. Here it is four
o'clock. Who knows but she's gone and spent that money, and my
grandmother never'll know what's 'come of it?"
This possibility was very alarming. "Jennie Vance doesn't seem to have
any little whisper inside of _her_ heart, that ticks like a watch;
but _I_ have. _My_ conscience pricks; so I know that perhaps it's my
duty to go and tell."
Dotty drew herself up virtuously and looked in the glass. There she
seemed to see an angelic little girl, whose only wish was to do just
right--a little girl as much purer than Jennie Vance, as a lily is
purer than a very ugly toadstool.
Well, Miss Dotty, there is some truth in the picture.
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