tion
about "Lize." When she fixed her big black eyes upon you, she made you
think of all sorts of delightful things you wanted to do, only they
were strictly forbidden. Her father and mother were not very good
people, and did not go to church Sundays. They lived in a low red
house near the Gordons. You never saw it, children; it was pulled down
ever so long ago, and used for kindlings. People called the house "the
Bean Pod," because there were nine little beans in it beside the big
ones. Rattlety bang! Harum scarum! There was always a great noise in
that house, and people called it "the rattling of the beans." It was
well it stood on a corner lot, and poor old Mr. Gordon was so deaf.

Lize Jane used to come to our house for currants. My mamma did not
like to have me see much of her, but could not refuse the currants,
for our bushes were loaded. It seemed as if the family must have lived
half the summer on currants and molasses; for almost every night there
was Lize Jane with her big tin pail. It had holes in the bottom, and
the juice used to run out sometimes upon her dress; but it didn't make
much difference, for her dress was never clean.

One night she came for currants when they were almost gone. Mother had
been sick, and was very late about making jelly. She told Eliza Jane
she couldn't let her come any more after that night; the rest of the
fruit must be saved for our own use. Lize Jane said nothing, but she
rolled her black eyes round towards me, and I felt a little ashamed,
for I knew she thought mother was stingy, and that was why she rolled
her eyes.

I went into the kitchen, and said to Ruth,--

"Don't you want me to pick you a bowl of currants?"

Of course she did. She didn't know Lize Jane was there, or she
wouldn't have been so pleased and so ready to get me my sun-bonnet.
She had to reach it down from a hook in the ceiling. That was the
place where Ned hung it when he wanted to "pester" me; he did it with
an old rake handle.

When I was going anywhere to meet Lize Jane, I always felt as if I
was stealing raisins. I never exactly stole raisins; but when my
mother said I might go to the box and get two or three, I had
sometimes taken a whole handful. I knew by the pricking of my
conscience that that was wrong, and in the same way I knew that this
was wrong too. Mother was in the green chamber, covering an ottoman
with green carpeting, so she wouldn't see me from that side of the
house.

I ran into