There was a moment of silence.
"He wouldn't have me," said Timothy simply, "he said I wasn't big enough
yet. I offered him Gay, too, but he didn't want her either, and if you
please, I would rather sleep on the sofa so as not to be any more
trouble."
"You won't do any such thing," responded Miss Vilda briskly. "You've
got a royal welcome this time sure, and I guess you can earn your
lodging fast enough. You hear that?" and she opened the door that led
into the upper part of the house.
A piercing shriek floated down into the kitchen, and another on the
heels of that, and then another. Every drop of blood in Timothy's spare
body rushed to his pale grave face. "Is she being whipped?" he
whispered, with set lips.
"No; she needs it bad enough, but we ain't savages. She's only got the
pretty temper that matches her hair, just as you said. I guess we
haven't been behavin' to suit her."
"Can I go up? She'll stop in a minute when she sees me. She never went
to bed without me before, and truly, truly, she's not a cross baby!"
"Come right along and welcome; just so long as she has to stay you're
invited to visit with her. Land sakes! the neighbors will think we're
killin' pigs!" and Miss Vilda started upstairs to show Timothy the way.
Gay was sitting up in bed and the faithful Samantha Ann was seated
beside her with a lapful of useless bribes,--apples, seed-cakes, an
illustrated Bible, a thermometer, an ear of red corn, and a large
stuffed green bird, the glory of the "keeping room" mantelpiece.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56