Part 7 (1/2)

Hannah paused, and gazed around appealingly.

”She got me 'round the neck, an' I couldn't no more make her let go than I could fly,” she added, as an unanswerable argument.

”Well, we jist got up to go, when there was the most awful racket started up you ever heard tell of, and that other girl, the one with the black head, comes runnin' up an' starts to dance 'round an' yell an' scream. An' at that, my girl she ups an' hollers, too, an' I never heard such a bedlam, each one screamin' they didn't want to leave the other. Jake he shouted out to a big girl standin' there to know what was the matter, an' she yells that they was twins an' hadn't never been apart. An' then I seen that they were jist as alike as two peas, except for the hair. Well, the black-headed one was makin' such a fearful holler that the matron she says to the big girl, quite sharp like, 'Take her up to the ward,' whatever place that may be. An' the big girl she grabs the poor child by the arm an' begins to haul her to the door, an' the tears streamin' down her little face.

”Well, with that, Jake he puts the red-headed one down with a bang, an'

he makes one leap for that big girl. I never seen Jake look like that before, only once, and that was when Joel McMurtry kicked his dog an'

broke its leg, thirteen years ago next twenty-fourth. It was an awful look. An' he jist grabs that child away from her, an' he says--he says--oh, I'd be ashamed to tell you the dreadful bad word he said! I wouldn't have the minister hear about it for all the earth, for Jake's been a member of the church ever since before we were married, an'

never used a bit o' bad language in his life, to my knowledge. An'

then he says, in a ter'ble voice, 'You leave that child alone, she's goin' with me,' he says. An' with that she puts her arms 'round his neck an' hangs on, an' calls him all the sweet names you ever heard.

”Well, that was bad' enough, but it seems we weren't done yet. We were jist beginnin' to get collected to start again, when one o' the twins commenced to yell again. It was the black-headed one, but I ain't sure o' their names. One's Lorena, an' the other's Lenora--ain't they awful pretty names? But I think they must change them 'round, 'cause I can never remember which is which, nor Jake, neither. Well, anyhow, the black one starts to holler louder'n ever, an' she kept screamin' in between hollers, 'I don't want to leave Timmy! I don't want to leave Timmy!' An' with that, the other girl starts up the same, an' the wee red-head he gets at it harder'n the rest, an' there was the three o'

them cryin' an' takin' on, 'Oh, let Timmy come, too! Let Timmy come, too!' 'Who's Timmy?' says Jake to the matron. 'Is he their dog?' says he. 'No,' says she, 'he's their brother,' says she. 'Lord 'a' mercy!'

says I, 'don't tell me there's another one!' 'Yes, there he is,' says she, an' she points to him. He was settin' on the edge of a long seat, all humped up, an' queer, watchin' everything, without sayin' a word, but if I live to be a hundred I'll never get the look o' that child's face out o' my mind. It was so kind o' awful lonesome an' forsaken an'

hungry-lookin', an' so fearful old, an' him not quite ten.”

Hannah paused to wipe her eyes.

”I knew, the minit I seen him, we'd jist got to adopt him, or I'd wake up nights seein' his poor little face lookin' at me with them terrible eyes. But he never asked to be took. He jist looks at the others, an'

he says, kind o' gruff like, 'Go on, yous; don't you mind me.'

”Well, it was my turn this time, an' I jist bust out louder'n the twins. An' I says, 'Oh, Jake,' I says, 'he'll die if we don't adopt him, too, an' so'll I!' I says. An' Jake, he jist snaps his fingers at the little fellow, an' he says, 'Come along, then, little shaver, we'll take you, too.' An' he gives one spring off the bench an' catches Jake around the legs like a big spider, an' mind you, all the three others was hangin' on to him already like leeches, an' Jake, he looks 'round kind o' helpless like, an' he says to the matron, 'There ain't any more belongin' to this family, is there?' says he. 'Cause you might as well trot 'em out.' But the matron she laughs, an' says that was all, and were we sure we could adopt so many. Jake says, 'I dunno, I'm sure,'

says he, 'but it seems as if they'd adopted us, and we can't help ourselves.' That set everybody laughin', 'stead o' cryin', an' we picked up them four orphants an' brought them home last night, an' here we are.”

She stopped, and looked around anxiously at the circle of neighbors.

”I know it was awful of us to do it. But I hope you won't mind, will you? We jist couldn't help it.”

”Well, yen's true, Hannah,” exclaimed old Miss McQuarry emphatically.

”It was jist the Lord's wull, wumman.”

Every one looked at Mrs. Winters for her verdict.

”It's a pity to part flesh and blood, that's a fact,” she admitted reluctantly. ”But how you an' Jake is ever goin' to tame down them four wild things is more'n I can tell.”

”You send them to school,” said the Duke of Wellington, as she arose to start for that inst.i.tution herself, ”and I'll answer for them the biggest part of the day.”

Mrs. Sawyer's face lightened. ”Indeed we will, jist as soon as we can get them to settle down a bit. An' Jake says the boys'll help him in the mill, an' the girls'll help me in the house, an' we'll get along somehow.”

”Well,” said Mrs. Munn, rising, and forestalling any further discussion, ”there's no use talkin' about things, anyhow; that does more harm than good.”

The company arose and drifted toward the door.

”D'ye think they'll be awful hard to bring up, Harriet?” whispered Mrs.