"
"Naow, ain't thet queer, Jos," said Aunt Ri, "aout here 'n thes
wilderness to ketch sumbody sayin' thet,-- jest what they all say ter
hum? I donno's I'm enny kinder'n ennybody else. I don't want ter
see ennybody put upon, nor noways sufferin', ef so be's I kin help;
but thet ain't ennythin' stronary, ez I know. I donno how ennybody
could feel enny different."
"There's lots doos, mammy," replied Jos, affectionately. "Yer'd
find out fast enuf, ef yer went raound more. There's mighty few's
good's you air ter everybody."
Ramona was crouching in the corner by the fire, her baby held
close to her breast. The place which at first had seemed a haven of
warmth, she now saw was indeed but a poor shelter against the
fearful storm which raged outside. It was only a hut of rough
boards, carelessly knocked together for a shepherd's temporary
home. It had been long unused, and many of the boards were loose
and broken. Through these crevices, at every blast of the wind, the
fine snow swirled. On the hearth were burning a few sticks of
wood, dead cottonwood branches, which Jef Hyer had hastily
collected before the storm reached its height.
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