yet; you 've only come over here to consult me 'bout runnin' away, an' we've concluded it ain't wuth the trouble. The only real sin you 've committed, as I figger it out, was in comin' here by the winder when you 'd ben sent to bed. That ain't so very black, an' you can tell your aunt Jane 'bout it come Sunday, when she 's chock full o' religion, an' she can advise you when you 'd better tell your aunt Mirandy. I don't believe in deceivin' folks, but if you 've hed hard thoughts you ain't obleeged to own 'em up; take 'em to the Lord in prayer, as the hymn says, and then don't go on hevin' 'em. Now come on; I 'm all hitched up to go over to the post-office; don't forget your bundle; 'it's always a journey, mother, when you carry a night-gown;' them 's the first words your uncle Jerry ever heard you say! He did n't think you 'd be bringin' your nightgown over to his house. Step in an' curl up in the corner; we ain't goin' to let folks see little runaway gals, 'cause they 're goin' back to begin all over ag'in!"
When Rebecca crept upstairs, and undressing in the dark finally found herself in her bed that night, though she was aching and throbbing in every nerve, she felt a kind of peace stealing over her. She had been saved from foolishness and error; kept from troubling her poor mother; prevented from angering and mortifying her aunts.
