Part 5 (1/2)

So I took her in, and the overseer said I was welcome to her. She's a nice little soul.”

”She's proper good-lookin'!” Lucindy's eyes were sparkling.

”She don't look as well as common to-day, for the boys went off plummin' without her. She was asleep, and I didn't want to call her.

She had a cryin' spell when she waked up, but I didn't know which way they'd gone.”

Ellen came wandering round the side of the house, and Lucindy crooked a trembling finger at her.

”Come here!” she called. ”You come here and see me!”

Ellen walked up to her with a steady step, and laid one little brown hand on Lucindy's knee. But the old Judge's daughter drew the child covetously to her lap.

”Look here,” she said, ”should you like to go home and spend a week with me?”

The little maid threw back her tangle of curls, and looked Lucindy squarely in the eyes.

”Yes,” she answered.

Lucindy's grasp tightened round her.

”How should you like to live with me?”

The child touched her little breast inquiringly with one finger.

”Me?” She pointed over to Mrs. McNeil, who lay listening and stretching her limbs in lazy comfort. ”Leave _her_?” And then, gravely, ”No; she's good to me.”

Lucindy's heart sank.

”You could come over to see her,” she pleaded, ”and I'd come too. We'd all go plummin' together. I should admire to! And we'd have parties, and ask 'em all over. What say?”

The child sat straight and serious, one warm hand clinging to Lucindy's slender palm. But her eyes still sought the face of her older friend.

Molly McNeil rose to a sitting posture. She took the straw from her mouth, and spoke with the happy frankness of those who have no fear because they demand nothing save earth and sky room.

”I know who you are,” she said to Lucindy. ”You're left well off, and I guess you could bring up a child, give you your way. We're as poor as poverty! You take her, if she'll go. Ellen, she's a nice lady; you better say 'yes.'”

Lucindy was trembling all over.

”You come, dear,” she urged, piteously. ”You come and live with me.”

Ellen thought a moment more. Then she nodded.

”I'll come,” said she.

Lucindy could not wait.

”I'll send a wagon over after her to-night.” She had put Ellen down, and was rising tremblingly. ”I won't stop to talk no more now, but you come and see me, won't you? Now, if you'll help me mount up--there! My! it's higher 'n 'twas before! Well, I'll see you again.” She turned Old Buckskin's head away from the fence; then she pulled him fiercely round again. ”Here!” she called, ”what if she should jump up behind me and come now!”

Mrs. McNeil, being the thrall only of the earth, saw no reason, why a thing should not be done as one wanted it. She lifted; the child and set her on the horse behind Lucindy. And so, in this strange fas.h.i.+on, the two entered the high street of Tiverton.

A few weeks after this, Mrs. Wilson and Lucindy went together to the little millinery shop. Ellen trotted between them, taking excursions into the street, now and again, in pursuit of b.u.t.terflies or thistledown. When they entered, Miss West, who had seen their approach from her position at the ironing-board, came forward with a gay little hat in her hand. It was trimmed with pink, and a wreath of tiny white flowers clung about the crown. She set it on Ellen's curls; and Ellen, her face quite radiant, looked up at Miss Lucindy for approval. But that lady was gazing anxiously at Mrs. Wilson.

”Now, there ain't anything unsuitable about that, is there?” she asked.

”I know, it's gay, and I want it to be gay. I can tell about _that_!