Mrs. Hopkins said nothing more.  Susy saw that she could have her own way, and as soon as dinner was over, without even waiting to help her mother to put the place in order, she started on her walk.  She felt pleased and self-important.  The day was a frosty one, and the sunset promised to be glorious.  The road to Mrs. Church’s house was flat and long and pleasant to walk on.  Susy had no particular eye for pretty views, or she might have pleased herself with the wonderful tints of the sky, and the autumnal shades which had not altogether deserted the neighboring woods.  Susy’s thoughts, however, were occupied with very different matters.

“Mother is always grumbling,” she said to herself; “and for that matter, so is Tom.  As if I’d demean myself by taking a place!  The idea of my being a servant.  Why, I know I shall do very well in the future.  I look high.  I mean to be a lady, as good as the best.  Would Miss Kathleen O’Hara take so much notice of me if I was not a very nice, lady-like sort of a girl?  I am sure no one could look sweeter than I do in my pale-blue blouse.  Even Tom says so.  He said I looked very genteel, and that he’d like his great friend, Walter Amber, to see me.  I don’t want to have anything to do with Tom’s friends.  Poor Tom! if mother can apprentice him to somebody, that is the most that can be expected.  But as for me, the very lowest position I intend to take in life in the future is that of a teacher.  I shall probably be a teacher in this very school, and get my couple of hundred a year.  A place indeed!  Poor dear mother doesn’t know what she is talking about.”

Occupied with her own thoughts, the road did not turn out long to Susy.  She reached Mrs. Church’s very humble abode between three and four o’clock.  It was still daylight.  The little old lady was seated in her window; she looked very much, surprised when she saw Susy, and limped to the door and opened it.

“Come in, Susy Hopkins,” she said.  “I suppose your mother has sent me my money.  If so, it is very thoughtful of her.  If you have brought the money, Susy, you shall have a cup of tea before you start on your homeward walk.  It is a fine day, child, and your cheeks look very fresh.  Come in, dear; come in.”

Mrs. Church hobbled back again into her small sitting-room.  She got back into her chair, and motioned to Susy to take one opposite to her.

“If that is the money you have in your hand,” she said, noticing that the child held a small parcel, “you may give it to me, and then go over there and get me that black cash-box.  I will put the gold and silver in immediately.  It is never safe to leave money about.”

“But I haven’t got the money, Aunt Church.  Mother couldn’t have saved it in the time.”

Mrs. Church’s face became very bleak and decidedly wintry in appearance.

“Then what have you come for, Susan?” she said.  “You needn’t suppose I am going to waste my good tea on you if you haven’t brought the money.  If you think so, you are fine and mistaken.”