or Comfort
got nearly distracted. It seemed to her that the time to go home
would never come, and as if she could never endure to go to school
again. That night she begged her mother to let her stay at home the
next day. "No," said her mother; "you've begun to go to school, and
you're going to school unless you're sick. Now this evening you had
better sit down and write a letter to your Aunt Comfort. It's a long
time since you wrote to her."
So Comfort sat down and wrote laboriously a letter to her Aunt
Comfort, and thanked her anew, as she always did, for her gold ring
and the gold dollar. "I wish to express my thanks again for the
beautiful and valuable gifts which you presented me for my name,"
wrote Comfort, in the little stilted style of the day.
After the letter was written it was eight o'clock, and Comfort's
mother said she had better go to bed.
"You look tired out," said she; "I guess you'll have to go to bed
early if you're going to school."
"Can't I stay home to-morrow, mother?" pleaded Comfort, with sudden
hope.
"No," said her mother; "you've got to go if you're able."
"Mother, can't I wear it just once?"
"Don't you bring that ring up again," said her mother. "Take your
candle and go right upstairs."
Comfort gave a pitiful little sob.
"Now don't you go to crying over it," ordered her mother; and Comfort
tried to choke back another sob as she went out of the room.
Comfort's father looked up from the _Old Farmer's Almanac_. He was
going to Bolton the next day with a load of wood, and wanted to see
what the weather would be, and so was consulting the almanac.
"What was it Comfort wanted?" he inquired.
"She wanted to wear that gold ring her Aunt Comfort gave her to
school," replied Mrs. Pease. "And I've told her over and over again I
shouldn't let her do it."
"It's a mile too big for her, and she'd be sure to lose it off," said
Grandmother Atkins; "and it would be a pity to have anything happen
to it, when it's real gold, too."
"She couldn't wind a rag round her finger under it, could she?" asked
Comfort's father, hesitatingly.
"Wear a rag round her finger under it!" repeated Mrs. Pease. "I
rather guess she can wait till her finger grows to it. You'd let that
child do anything."
Mr. Pease did not say anything more, but studied the _Old Farmer's
Almanac_ again, and found out it was likely to be fair weather for
the season.
It was past midnight, and the hearth fire was raked
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