"Isn't it!" said the other.
"I--I'm awful sorry," faltered Sue. "My father will pay for the molasses
I let run out, Mrs. Golden!"
"Oh, don't worry about that," said the old lady, though she was a bit
worried over the loss, for nearly a pint of the sweet stuff had run
away. "It's you I'm thinking of," she said. "Are you sure you aren't
hurt?"
"No," answered Sue. "But my dress is. Oh, how am I going to get home?"
she went on, as she pulled up the edge of her skirt and saw how dirty
and sticky it was.
"You'll have to get into the bath tub, clothes and all," said one of the
customers.
"It's like when I fell in the brook," half sobbed Sue.
"There, never mind!" said Mrs. Golden kindly. "Here, little boy," she
said, reaching over and lifting up the brimming measure of sweet stuff,
"take your molasses and run along. Then I'll clean up here."
Leaning over, to keep her feet out of the puddle, Mrs. Golden helped Sue
to rise, though it was a bit hard on account of the sticky molasses.
Then the little girl's dress was taken off and she was sent into Mrs.
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