7. CHAPTER SEVEN
"How much will pay them off and restore your credit?" asked
Meg, taking out her purse."
"A quarter would more than do it, and leave a few cents over
for a treat for you. Don't you like limes?"
"Not much. You may have my share. Here's the money. Make it
last as long as you can, for it isn't very plenty, you know."
"Oh, thank you! It must be so nice to have pocket money! I'll
have a grand feast, for I haven't tasted a lime this week. I felt
delicate about taking any, as I couldn't return them, and I'm
actually suffering for one."
Next day Amy was rather late at school, but could not resist the
temptation of displaying, with pardonable pride, a moist brown-paper
parcel, before she consigned it to the inmost recesses of her desk.
During the next few minutes the rumor that Amy March had got twenty-four
delicious limes (she ate one on the way) and was going to
treat circulated through her `set', and the attentions of her friends
became quite overwhelming. Katy Brown invited her to her next party
on the spot. Mary Kinglsey insisted on lending her her watch till
recess, and Jenny Snow, a satirical young lady, who had basely twitted
Amy upon her limeless state, promptly buried the hatchet and offered
to furnish answers to certain appalling sums. But Amy had not
forgotten Miss Snow's cutting remarks about `some persons whose noses
were not too flat to smell other people's limes, and stuck-up people
who were not too proud to ask for them', and she instantly crushed
`that Snow girl's' hopes by the withering telegram, "You needn't be
so polite all of a sudden, for you won't get any."
A distinguished personage happened to visit the school that
morning, and Amy's beautifully drawn maps received praise, which
honor to her foe rankled in the soul of Miss Snow, and caused Miss
March to assume the airs of a studious young peacock. But, alas,
alas! Pride goes before a fall, and the revengeful Snow turned the
tables with disastrous success. No sooner had the guest paid the
usual stale compliments and bowed himself out, than Jenny, under
pretense of asking an important question, informed Mr. Davis, the
teacher, that Amy March had pickled limes in her desk.