But I guess she'll be all right, now that she knows you
a little, and if I can see her every day. She never cries except once in
a long while when she gets mad; and if you're careful how you behave,
she'll hardly ever get mad at you."
"Well I vow!" exclaimed Miss Vilda with a grim glance at Samantha, "I
guess she'd better do the behavin'."
So Timothy was shown the way across the fields to Squire Bean's.
Samantha accompanied him to the back gate, where she gave him three
doughnuts and a sneaking kiss, watching him out of sight under the
pretense of taking the towels and napkins off the grass.
It was nearly nine o'clock and quite dark when Timothy stole again to
the little gate of the White Farm. The feet that had traveled so
courageously over the mile walk to Squire Bean's had come back again
slowly and wearily; for it is one thing to be shod with the sandals of
hope, and quite another to tread upon the leaden soles of
disappointment.
He leaned upon the white picket gate listening to the chirp of the frogs
and looking at the fireflies as they hung their gleaming lamps here and
there in the tall grass. Then he crept round to the side door, to
implore the kind offices of the mediator before he entered the presence
of the judge whom he assumed to be sitting in awful state somewhere in
the front part of the house. He lifted the latch noiselessly and
entered. Oh horror! Miss Avilda herself was sprinkling clothes at the
great table on one side of the room.
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