"Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Chick Flathers! Tradin' a little
fellow's fine marbles fer them comman allies? It's cheatin', that's
what it is, it's stealin'! Ain't you ashamed?"
Chick _was_ ashamed and had the grace to show it. His contrition
would probably not have developed except through exposure, but
standing before Myrtella's accusing glance, and the surprised, hurt
look in Bertie's eyes, his hardened conscience was pricked, and his
lip began to tremble.
With a fierce gesture of protection Myrtella pulled him to her:
"Don't, Chick! Don't cry! I wasn't meanin' to scold you. You ain't had
a chance like other boys. You never had no playthings, you never had
nothin'. You was a poor little abandoned child ever since you was
born. Oh! God, I'm a wicked woman! I ain't fit to live on the earth!"
This amazing outburst so stunned the two small boys, that they stood
looking at her in open-eyed astonishment. For some moments she swayed
to and fro with her apron over her head, then savagely dried her eyes,
and, bidding them follow her, stalked up the back stairs with broom
and dust pan.
Doctor Queerington's study was at the top of the house, where by means
of closing the doors and windows, and stuffing his ears with cotton,
he was able to shut out that material world to which he preferred to
remain a stranger.
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