"What is this?" I said, finding a roll of bills.
"It's my wages, Miss Daisy. I only kept out two dollars, ma'am
— I wanted a pair of shoes so bad — and I couldn't be let go
about the house in them old shoes with holes in 'em; there was
holes in both of 'em, Miss Daisy."
"But your wages, Margaret?" I said; "I have nothing to do with
your wages."
"Yes, Miss Daisy — they belongs to master, and I allowed to
bring 'em to you. They's all there so fur. It's all right."
I felt the hot shame mounting to my face. I put the money back
in Margaret's hand, and hurriedly told her to keep it; we were
not at Magnolia; she might do what she liked with the money;
it was her own earnings.
I shall never forget the girl's confounded look, and then her
grin of brilliant pleasure. I could have burst into tears as I
went up the stairs, thinking of others at home. Yet the
question came too, would my father like what I had been doing?
He held the girl to be his property and her earnings his
earnings. Had I been giving Margaret a lesson in rebellion,
and preparing her to claim her rights at some future day?
Perhaps.
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