PART 2
29. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
(continued)
"That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances.
There's nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue
boots for Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones
the loveliest shade of sky blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly
like satin," added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments
that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her
cardcase at her.
"We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much,"
observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary
lady, who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.
Any mention of her `works' always had a bad effect upon Jo,
who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject
with a brusque remark, as now. "Sorry you could find nothing better
to read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people
like it. Are you going to New York this winter?'
As Miss Lamb had `enjoyed' the story, this speech was not
exactly grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw
her mistake, but fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered
that it was for her to make the first move toward departure,
and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half-finished sentences in their mouths.
"Amy, we must go. Good-by, dear, do come and see us. We are
pining for a visit. I don't dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb, but if you
should come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away."
Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester's
gushing style that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible,
feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time.
"Didn't I do well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air as they walked away.
"Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crushing reply.
"What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and
the hats and boots, and all the rest of it?"
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