At last she said,--
"I'd like to, Tip, but I don't look decent to go anywhere. I've only this
dress and my old hood."
"I wouldn't mind that," said Tip. "I've only this awful old jacket
either, but I mean to go. Hurry up the dishes, and let's go."
"Well," said Kitty at last, "I _will_; but what will mother say?"
"I'll fix that." And Tip stepped softly into the bedroom. "Are you better
to-night, father?"
"Not much better, I guess. How's arithmetic to-day?"
"First-rate; Mr. Burrows said I was getting ahead fast. Mother, may Kitty
go out with me to-night? I'm going up to the church to prayer-meeting."
Mrs. Lewis turned from the basket where she had been hunting long, and as
yet in vain, for a piece of flannel, and bent a searching bewildered look
on her son.
"I don't care," she said at last; "she can go if she likes; but I doubt
if she will."
She _did_, however; in ten minutes more the two were walking along the
snowy path. Kitty was sober. "Tip," she said presently, "don't you never
get real awful _mad_, so mad that you feel as if you'd choke if you
couldn't speak right out at somebody?"
"Well, no," said Tip, "not often.
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