Not a golden
dandelion on the road-side, not a gurgle of the plashing brown
water from the well-troughs, which did not give a quicker
pleasure to the glowing face. Its curious content stung the
woman walking by her side. What secret of recompense had the
poor wretch found?
"Your father is here, Lois," she said carelessly, to break the
silence. "I saw him at the mill yesterday."
Her face kindled instantly.
"He's home, Miss Marg'et,--yes. An' it's all right wid him.
Things allus do come right, some time," she added, in a
reflective tone, brushing a fly off Barney's ear.
Margret smiled.
"Always? Who brings them right for you, Lois?"
"The Master," she said, turning with an answering smile.
Margret was touched. The owner of the mill was not a more real
verity to this girl than the Master of whom she spoke with such
quiet knowledge.
"Are things right in the mill?" she said, testing her.
A shadow came on her face; her eyes wandered uncertainly, as if
her weak brain were confused,--only for a moment.
"They'll come right!" she said, bravely "The Master'll see to
it!"
But the light was gone from her eyes; some old pain seemed to be
surging through her narrow thought; and when she began to talk,
it was in a bewildered, doubtful way.
"It's a black place, th' mill," she said, in a low voice. "It
was a good while I was there: frum seven year old till sixteen.
'T seemed longer t' me 'n 't was. 'T seemed as if I'd been there
allus,--jes' forever, yoh know.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71