“Susy!” said Mrs. Parlin, sternly, “are you more afraid of displeasing Mrs. Lovejoy than you are of displeasing God?  All that is required of you is the simple truth.  Merely say to Annie’s mother just what you have said to me; that you saw Annie eating cake several times, though there was no harm in it, and you did not call her either a thief or a liar.  Speak respectfully, but decidedly; and when you have said all that is necessary, leave her politely, and come home.”

Susy called up all her courage when she entered Mrs. Lovejoy’s house, and saw that lady sitting very erect on a sofa, with a bleak face, which looked somehow as if a north-east wind had blown over it, and frozen it.

“Well, little girl,” said she, without waiting for ceremony, “so you call my Annie all the bad names you can think of, it seems.  Is that the way you are brought up?”

“I didn’t call her names, ma’am; she ate the cake, but I was willing,” replied Susy, calmly and respectfully, though she trembled from head to foot.  There was one thought which sustained Susy; she was telling the truth, and that was just what God wanted her to do.

“Well,” said Mrs. Lovejoy, “I must say you’re a dignified little piece!  Do you know you’ve done the same thing as to tell me I lie?”

This was just the way Annie had spoken; warping innocent words, and making them the occasion of a quarrel.

Susy could think of nothing which seemed exactly right to say to Mrs. Lovejoy in reply; so she wisely held her peace.

“Yes, miss, you’ve insulted my child, and, as if that were not enough, you come over here, deliberately, and insult me, in my own house!”

Tears sprang to Susy’s eyes, but she resolutely crushed them back.  There was, in her childish mind, a certain sense of self-respect, which made her unwilling to cry in the presence of such a person as Mrs. Lovejoy.  She felt instinctively that the woman was not a lady.  Susy was too young to reason about the matter; but she was quite sure her own mother was a model of good manners; and never, never had she known her mother to raise her voice to such a high key, or speak such angry words!

Mrs. Lovejoy said a great many things which were both severe and unjust; but Susy managed to keep up a respectful manner, as her mother had directed.  Mrs. Lovejoy was disappointed.  She had expected Susy would quail before her presence and make the most humble confessions.

“I always knew,” cried Mrs. Lovejoy, becoming more and more exasperated,—­“I always knew Mrs. Parlin held her head pretty high!  She is a proud, stuck-up woman, your mother is; she has taught you to look down on my little girl!  O, yes, I understand the whole story!  You’re a beautiful family for neighbors!”

Poor Susy was fairly bewildered.

“Now you may go home as straight as you can go!  But remember one thing:  never, while we live in this city, shall my daughter Annie darken your doors again!”