Part 29 (2/2)

”Oh, dear me!” Rachel struggled with her sobs. ”You shouldn't 'a' told me you had 'em. That ain't a funeral.”

”It is, too,” declared Peletiah; ”it's Miss Bedlow's funeral, and my Pa is going to bury her.”

”It ain't, either; an' that's a baker's cart,” said Rachel, pointing to the departing hea.r.s.e with scorn.

”Oh, oh, what a story!” exclaimed Ezekiel, who was just on the point of reproving his brother for contradicting, and he pointed his brown finger at her. ”That's got Miss Bedlow in, and they're taking her to the burying-ground, and it's her funeral.”

”Well, I don't want to go back to the city,” said Rachel hastily, dismissing Miss Bedlow and her funeral and all discussion thereon summarily, and she dug the toe of her shoe into the gravel; ”don't let your mother send me back.”

”You said you wished you were back there,” observed Peletiah severely, fixing his pale eyes on her distressed face, along which the tears were making little paths.

”Well, I don't care. I don't want to go. Don't let her!” She seized his arm and shook it smartly.

”You're shaking me!” said Peletiah, in astonishment.

”I know it, an' I'm goin' to,” said Rachel, stamping her foot.

”You ain't going to shake my brother,” declared Ezekiel loudly, ”and we'll make you go back if you shake us,” he added vindictively.

”Oh, dear, dear!” Rachel dropped Peletiah's arm, and she hid her face in her hands. ”Don't make me go back,” she wailed. ”It's too dreadful there, for Mrs. Fisher won't have me if you send me away, 'n' Gran 'll get hold of me somehow--she'll--she'll find me, I know she will,” and she s.h.i.+vered all over.

”Who's Gran?” Peletiah drew quite near.

”She's Gran,” said Rachel, s.h.i.+vering again. ”Oh, dear! don't ask me; and she beat me dreadful, an'--” her voice broke.

”She beat you?” cried Peletiah.

”Awful,” said Rachel, cramming her fingers into her mouth to keep from crying. ”Oh, dear, dear! don't send me back.”

Peletiah took two or three steps off, then came back.

”You may shake me if you want to,” he said generously, ”and you ain't going back.”

”Well, she isn't going to shake me,” said Ezekiel stoutly, ”and my Ma will send her back if she shakes me, so there!”

”I hain't shook you yet,” said Rachel, disclosing her black eyes between her fingers and viewing him with cold disdain.

”Well, you ain't going to,” repeated Ezekiel, with decision.

”Her Gran beat her.” Peletiah went over to his brother. ”She beat Rachel.”

He kept repeating it, over and over; meanwhile Ezekiel moved about in confusion, digging the toes of his shoes into the gravel to hide it.

”Well, she ain't going to shake me,” he said, but it was in a fainter voice, and he didn't look at Rachel's eyes.

”And you mustn't ask Mother to send her back,” said Peletiah stubbornly.

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