She
barely escaped the whole blaze coming in her face.
"What's that!" shrieked Mrs. Dorcas, rushing to the cellar-door.
Words can not describe her feeling when she saw that her nice
candle-wicks, the fruit of her day's toil, were burnt up.
If ever there was a wretched culprit that night, Ann was. She had not
meant to do wrong, but that, maybe, made it worse for her in one way.
She had not even gratified malice to sustain her. Grandma blamed her,
almost as severely as Mrs. Dorcas. She said she didn't know what
would "become of a little gal, that was so keerless," and decreed
that she must stay at home from school and work on candle-wicks till
Mrs. Dorcas' loss was made good to her. Ann listened ruefully. She
was scared and sorry, but that did not seem to help matters any. She
did not want any supper, and she went to bed early and cried herself
to sleep.
Somewhere about midnight, a strange sound woke her up. She called out
to Grandma in alarm. The same sound had awakened her. "Get up, an'
light a candle, child," said she; "I'm afeard the baby's sick.
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