“Like to look about a bit before you leave?  By-and-by’s a busy place; don’t you think so?”

And Betty replied promptly, “Oh, no, sir—­yes, sir—­not at all, sir—­if you please, sir;” quite too frantic at the thought of having to go back, even for a moment, to answer the questions.

But all the while she was very angry with Mr. Bombus for bringing her there, quite forgetting she had pleaded with him to do so; and his smiling at her in that very superior fashion provoked her sadly, and she began upbraiding him, between her sobs and tears, for his unkindness and severity.

“It would only have been harder in the end,” replied her companion, calmly.  “Now you ’ve paid them and can take care not to run up any more debts; for, mark my words, you ’ll have to square your account every time, and the longer it runs the worse it will be.  Nothing in the world, in the way of responsibility, ever goes scot-free.  You have to pay in one way or another for everything you do or leave undone, and the sooner you know it the better.”

Betty was sobbing harder than ever, and when she thought she caught a triumphant gleam in Mr. Bombus’s eyes and heard him humming in an aggravating undertone, “In the Sweet By-and-by,” she could restrain herself no longer, but raised her hand and struck him a sounding blow.  Instantly she was most deeply repentant, and would have begged his pardon; but as she turned to address him, his cocked hat flew off, his legs doubled up under him, his eyes rolled madly, and then with a fierce glare at her he roared in a voice of thunder:  “BET-TY!”

And there she was in the soft grass-heap, sobbing with fright and clutching tightly in her hand a fistful of straw; while yonder in the wistaria-vine a humble-bee was settling, and a voice from the house was heard calling her name: 

“Betty!  BET-TY!”

THE WHITE ANGEL

Once upon a time there lived in a far country a man and his wife, and they were very poor.  Every morning the man went his way into the forest, and there he chopped wood until the sky in the west flushed crimson because of the joy it felt at having the great sun pass that way; and when the last rim of the red ball disappeared behind the line of the hills, the man would shoulder his ax and trudge wearily home.

In the mean time the wife went about in the little hut, making it clean and neat, and perhaps singing as she worked,—­for she was a cheery soul.

Well, one day—­perhaps it was because she was very tired and worn; I do not know—­but one day she sat down by the door of her hut, and was just about to begin sewing on some rough piece of hempen cloth she had in her lap, when, lo! she fell asleep.

Now, this was very strange indeed, and even in her dream she seemed to wonder at herself and say:  “I have never slept in the daytime before.  What can it mean?  What will Hans think of me if he should come home and find me napping in the doorway and his supper not ready for him, nor the table spread?”