presented In the 
 
 I IBBARY 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SAN DIF.GO 
 
 by 
 FRIl.NDS OFTIIL LIBRARY 
 
 MR. JOHN C. ROSE 
 
 donor
 
 3 1822 01049 3740
 
 DALLY 
 
 BY 
 
 MARIA LOUISE POOL 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TENTING AT STONY BEACH' 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 
 1891
 
 Copyright, 1891, by HARPER & BROTHERS. 
 
 All i-ightf reserved.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. THE WIDDER 'BIJAH'S GUEST .... i 
 
 II. MRS. WlNSLOW AND THE WlDOW DIS- 
 AGREE 13 
 
 III. How DALLY KEPT HER PUPPY ... 25 
 
 IV. DALLY TAKES THE PLEDGE .... 36 
 V. DALLY AND MARIETTA HAVE A GOOD 
 
 TIME 51 
 
 VI. MRS. PETER WINSLOW SUSPECTS . . 65 
 VII. MR. PETER WINSLOW WARNS THE 
 
 WIDOW 78 
 
 VIII. DALLY CONFESSES 91 
 
 IX. MRS. WINSLOW OFFERS A FEW POR- 
 TERS 106 
 
 X. A NEW-COMER AT THE WIDOW'S. . .119 
 
 XI. MR. DODSON GIVES BARKER A LIFT . 133 
 
 XII. WHAT BARKER BROUGHT TO DALLY . 146
 
 i v CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XIII. MR. DODSON ACTS UPON HIS ID 
 
 XIV. GROWN UP . . 
 
 XV. MARIETTA'S LOVER 
 
 XVI. THODOR'S CONFESSION . . . . 
 
 XVII. THE Two GIRLS 
 
 XVIII. MRS. WINSLOW'S NEMESIS . . 
 
 XIX. DALLY'S ANSWER 
 
 XX. BARKER SETTLES WITH THE 
 
 SONS 
 
 XXI. CONCLUSION.
 
 I 
 
 If 
 
 20 
 
 DALLY 
 
 3' 
 
 4. 
 
 I 
 
 THE WIDDER 'BIJAH'S GUEST 
 
 HEN people wished to speak of Mrs. 
 Abijah Jacobs in a way that was at 
 once descriptive and polite, they 
 called her a "widow lady." It was univer- 
 sally felt that the term widow by itself did 
 not sufficiently indicate that the bereaved 
 object was an individual of the human spe- 
 cies, and of the female sex. There were some 
 who allowed themselves to say " widow 
 woman," but these were careless in their 
 speech, and not to be considered on this 
 occasion. 
 
 In common, everyday talk, however, Mrs. 
 Jacobs was always mentioned as the " Wid- 
 ier "Bijah," to distinguish her from two oth- 
 er \vomen who had married men by the name 
 i
 
 2 DALLY 
 
 of Jacobs in Ransom, and from whom Provi- 
 dence had wrested their partners. 
 
 The Widder 'Bijah was fat and thrifty, 
 and had a shrewd cast to her right eye which 
 gave her an appearance of winking sometimes 
 when she would not have winked for all the 
 world. It was by reason of the appearance 
 of this eye that Mr. H. F. Turner, proprietor 
 of the one store at Ransom, a widower I 
 am tempted to say a widower gentleman 
 was impressed with the ineradicable convic- 
 tion that Mrs. Jacobs encouraged him even 
 at the very funeral of Abijah, on which oc- 
 casion he acted as one of the bearers. It 
 is probable that nothing will ever convince 
 him that he was not winked at at that time. 
 It is true that when he called, on the strength 
 of that look, a week or two later, the cold- 
 ness of his reception was not favorable to 
 the belief he had formed. Mrs. Jacobs was 
 hardly civil, and she persevered in that man- 
 ner on all the occasions when she was obliged 
 to go to his store. Notwithstanding all this, 
 though Mr. Turner did not again call, with 
 true masculine self-appreciation he always 
 had a firm belief that Mrs. Jacobs really was 
 fond of him, but that for some reason she
 
 DALLY 3 
 
 had made up her mind not to yield to that 
 fondness, and when this woman had made 
 up her mind, all who knew her said " it wa'n't 
 no use." So H. F. Turner turned his thoughts 
 towards some one else who, though a good 
 housekeeper, had not so much of this world's 
 goods. 
 
 In the year following the death of Mr. Ja- 
 cobs his relict had several opportunities to 
 marry again. It appeared to be understood 
 in the neighborhood that the time to con- 
 sole a widow was when she was mourning; 
 it was not wise to wait till she began to "perk 
 up of her own self." 
 
 But Mrs. Jacobs refused all offers of con- 
 solation. She said she could take care of 
 herself, and she could take care of her farm, 
 and she guessed somebody else would suit 
 better. 
 
 She went to every service which was held 
 in the Congregational Church at Ransom. 
 She was always present at the Tuesday even- 
 ing prayer-meeting, at every " preparatory 
 lecture," at the Sunday-school, even at the 
 choir-meetings, where she sat and heard the 
 sopranos try to toss their voices entirely out 
 of reach of the bass and alto singers. She
 
 DALLY 
 
 invariably contributed ten cents to every- 
 thing. She bought a ticket every time there 
 was an "apron-party" or a "necktie-party" 
 in the vestry, such entertainments being of 
 frequent necessity in order to eke out the 
 minister's salary. But she never went to 
 those parties. She said she would rather " set 
 V toast her feet to home." So she gave her 
 ticket to some young person to whom it was 
 a treat to see and hear three or four " fellers 
 and girls " speak a dialogue which they had 
 imperfectly learned, and where they were 
 sure to giggle in the wrong place. 
 
 She was one who said she was " bound to 
 do good if it killed her." She would allow 
 paupers from the almshouse, who were " long- 
 ing for a change," to come to her house and 
 make long visits. What she endured with 
 some of them she never told any one. The ut- 
 most she was ever heard to say on the subject 
 was after a particularly trying visitation, when 
 she remarked that she had made up her mind 
 that " there was generally a reason why folks 
 come on to the town ; it wa'n't all misfortune ; 
 there was some deviltry mixed up with it." 
 
 Thus it was natural enough that Mrs. Lan- 
 der, who lived in New York, and who board-
 
 DALLY 5 
 
 ed with the Widder 'Bijah a few weeks in 
 summer, should send Dally out to the old 
 farmhouse in Ransom. Mrs. Lander found 
 Dally on "White Crow Mounting," living a 
 brute's life with a woman called "Ole Tid " 
 and a boy named Barker, who was said to be 
 Daily's brother. White Crow Mounting was 
 one of the most picturesque spots in West- 
 ern North Carolina-, picturesque spots some- 
 times harbor strange vermin. 
 
 The child was almost like a little flower 
 to look at. It is the owners of pretty faces 
 who stand the best chance of being rescued 
 from unhappiness. Mrs. Lander took Dally ; 
 she left Barker to get along as best he might. 
 She forgot the boy, who was not interesting, 
 though perhaps he also had a soul to save. 
 But the lady may have thought she could 
 not save 'all those wretched mountain chil- 
 dren, so she would select a pleasing speci- 
 men. 
 
 " Yes, send her on," wrote Mrs. Jacobs 
 in answer to Mrs. Lander's letter. 
 
 The work-worn heart leaped in a strange 
 way when the sharp, kindly eyes above it 
 looked out of the window one rainy morn- 
 ing a whole day earlier than the child had
 
 6 DALLY 
 
 been expected. Those eyes saw a girl of 
 thirteen or fourteen, completely covered by 
 a plaid cloak too large for her, with hair and 
 eyebrows dripping with rain, trying to open 
 the gate which led to the neatly-kept door- 
 yard. 
 
 The Widder 'Bijah dropped the strip of 
 rug she was braiding and hurried to the door. 
 
 " Lift up the latch from the inside," she 
 cried out. " It kinder ketches when it's 
 wet." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," answered a sweet voice ; 
 and, the latch having been lifted from the 
 inside, the new-comer walked up the narrow 
 planking that made the path, and held out 
 an envelope addressed in Mrs. Lander's tall, 
 angular handwriting. 
 
 " I s'pose you come from North Caroliny ?" 
 said Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Come right in 'n' take off that drippin' 
 cloak ; 'n' I s'pose your feet are soppin' wet, 
 ain't they?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 The girl still stood hesitating at the door 
 of the kitchen, and when Mrs. Jacobs put 
 out her hand and drew her forward she shrank
 
 DALLY 7 
 
 back involuntarily, as a horse will shrink 
 which has been treated cruelly. 
 
 " For mercy's sake, child, you don't ex- 
 pect I'm going to strike you, do ye?" cried 
 the woman, her quick eyes rightly interpret- 
 ing the movement. 
 
 The kind voice made Dally tremble. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," she said, humbly, " I reck- 
 oned yo' war gwine ter hit me. I'm used ter 
 bein' hit." 
 
 " Gracious !" 
 
 With this exclamation Mrs. Jacobs almost 
 roughly removed Daily's cloak and hat, which 
 articles she carried from the room and hung 
 in the porch. She stood there a moment 
 looking at them. 
 
 " It's the dearest little face I ever saw," 
 she whispered to herself. " She'll make a 
 fool of me. I know. I always was weak- 
 minded 'bout them faces with soft white 
 skin, 'n' light hair, 'n' brown eyes. Oh, I do 
 hope she won't turn out to be an imp of 
 Satan ! She's a regular heathen, of course. 
 I'll take her to the. choir-meet'n to-morrer 
 night. I s'pose she never lived on much 
 but clay yet." 
 
 It was Mrs. Jacobs's conviction that peo-
 
 DALLY 
 
 pie who dwelt in the Southern States, which 
 she invariably spoke of as " below Mason and 
 Dixon's line," were always clay-eaters. In 
 this particular instance this article of diet 
 had produced a pleasing effect. 
 
 In ten minutes from her arrival Dally was 
 sitting with her feet on the kitchen stove, a 
 little shoulder-shawl belonging to her host- 
 ess over her, while she sipped some ginger- 
 tea. It occurred to Mrs. Jacobs that ginger- 
 tea would counteract any ill effects which 
 might come from change of climate. 
 
 Dally drank the tea as copiously as she 
 could. She finally held out the huge bowl 
 towards her companion and said, piteously, 
 that she did wish she had " er bit er corn 
 pone, 'n' er drop er grease. She was that 
 hungry she b'lieved she could chaw urp er 
 mule-strop." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs started and said : " Gracious !" 
 again, much as a man might have said, " the 
 devil !" 
 
 She darted to the buttery, and brought 
 out a plate of cold corned beef and one of 
 bread. The child attacked the food like a 
 famished creature, and Mrs. Jacobs stood 
 looking at her.
 
 DALLY 9 
 
 " I almost was afraid you wouldn't know 
 what to do with Yankee victuals," she said 
 at last, and then added, " but I see you 
 do." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Dally, with her mouth 
 full. 
 
 When she had eaten more than she had 
 ever eaten before at one time in her life, she 
 leaned back in her chair and said, with pre- 
 cisely the same manner with which she would 
 have asked for a drink of water : 
 
 " Please, I'll have just er sup at some whis- 
 key now. Don't go ter weaken' it noan." 
 
 The Widder 'Bijah seemed to grow pale 
 as she heard those words from those lovely 
 pink lips. She belonged to all the temper- 
 ance societies that had ever been started in 
 Ransom. She did not believe that anything 
 save the last stages of consumption would 
 justify a person in taking whiskey. 
 
 Dally, meeting that horrified look, gradu- 
 ally grew redder and redder, until at last she 
 put her grimy, hard little hands over her face 
 and burst into violent weeping, crying out 
 in a strangled voice that she " wa'n't no pi- 
 son adder that she must be looked at like 
 that !"
 
 I0 DALLY 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs was wise enough not to say 
 anything on the subject. She advised that 
 the child should lie down on the lounge and 
 take a nap, as she must be all worn out. 
 
 When Dally was fast asleep, which was 
 immediately, Mrs. Jacobs drew out Mrs. Lan- 
 der's letter from her pocket and sat by the 
 lounge with it in her hand for some time be- 
 fore she opened it. She was gazing at the 
 face on the patchwork pillow ; for the mo- 
 ment all the shrewdness was gone from her 
 eyes, and only the kindness remained. The 
 daughter she had never had, but whom she 
 had longed for through years of practical 
 humdrum life, almost seemed before her 
 now in the person of this little waif from 
 North Carolina. Oh, yes, she would take 
 her, she would keep her. No need to ask if 
 she would keep her. The child was no bet- 
 ter than a heathen, no doubt, and must be 
 converted and go to all the meetings, and in 
 due time be a member of the church. But 
 how and where did she get that bewitch- 
 ingly sweet face and that bewitchingly sweet 
 voice? How could she creep straight into 
 one's heart, as she had done now? Why 
 was there not something coarse in her feat-
 
 DALLY H 
 
 ures or in her expression ? And she asking 
 for whiskey? 
 
 If Mrs. Jacobs could have seen Daily's 
 mountain home and Ole Tid, she would have 
 asked these questions even more emphatic- 
 ally than she had now asked them. 
 
 Mrs. Lander wrote in a rather sentimental 
 way that she hoped and believed that Dally 
 would be like the perfume of a rich blossom 
 in Mrs. Jacobs's life. She said, also, she 
 should insist upon helping in the expense 
 of bringing up the child, since her dear friend 
 was so good as to take the care. And she 
 enclosed a check. 
 
 The woman, reading the letter, felt a curi- 
 ous sensation of angry jealousy as she looked 
 at the check. 
 
 " I ain't so poor but I can take care of 
 her, I guess," she said, aloud. " And very 
 likely I shall need a sight of patience, too," 
 she added. 
 
 Before the next twenty-four hours were 
 gone, she had an overwhelming sense that a 
 " sight of patience," much as that was, was 
 not enough. She would not tell any human 
 being, but she told God in her prayers that, 
 if He didn't send His grace down in running-
 
 12 
 
 DALLY 
 
 over measure, she did not know what she 
 should do with that Caroliny gal. 
 
 But as she rose from her knees she breathed 
 out, " I can't help loving her, though."
 
 II 
 
 MRS. WINSLOW AND THE WIDDER DISAGREE 
 
 SHOULDN'T wonder if 'twas 
 quite a spell before she was any 
 comfort to ye. Did she do that ?" 
 
 The speaker was holding up a strip of 
 patchwork that was drawn and puckered 
 until it bore no semblance whatever to, the 
 precious thing it ought to have resembled. 
 She was standing in the Widder 'Bijah's 
 kitchen, and the Widder 'Bijah was stand- 
 ing with her, and looking at the same piece 
 of work left by Daily's hands when the girl 
 started for school that morning. 
 
 "Did she do that?" repeated Mrs. Wins- 
 low, with even more severity. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Jacobs, "she done that, 
 and she really seemed to try." 
 
 Mrs. Winslow sniffed very audibly. She 
 put down the dreadful strip of patchwork in 
 the basket. She said there wa'n't no gal 
 round but could have made a whole bed-
 
 I4 DALLY 
 
 quilt long 'fore she was Daily's age. She said 
 patchwork was the one thing it was neces- 
 sary for a gal to know. She should have 
 died of shame if Marietta had done that, 
 and she motioned towards the basket. 
 
 " You must remember that Dally ain't had 
 no bringing-up," said Mrs. Jacobs, in a de- 
 pressed manner. " I guess there wa'n't nev- 
 er no Winslow but could have made calico 
 squares in their cradles. You know Daily's 
 nothin' but a Caroliny gal." 
 
 "You missed it dreadfully takin' of her. 
 I feel to thank the Lord every day that I've 
 ben saved from takin' of her." 
 
 "You've a great many mercies of that 
 kind to be thankful for," returned Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs, in a tone that made her caller cringe 
 somehow, and which caused her to remem- 
 ber that she had, as she said, " some bread 
 a-risin', and must hurry home." 
 
 At the door she turned back to ask if it 
 were true that Dally hadn't no last name and 
 no father. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs's eyes flashed. The eye that 
 naturally squinted opened very wide. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " it's jest as true as 
 that your father V mother quarrelled so's
 
 DALLY 15 
 
 the neighbors had to interfere nigh every 
 day of their lives. As for my part, I'd just 
 as leeves have no father at all as one that 'd 
 beat his wife with a beef's tongue, 's your's 
 used ter; 'n' milk-pails throwin' at her head !" 
 
 Mrs. Winslow glared a moment, and then 
 she hurried away, while Mrs. Jacobs went 
 back to her kitchen and sat down to repent 
 of her hasty speech. 
 
 She took up the poor little puckered sew- 
 ing and looked at it. As she did so she 
 recalled how Dally had cried because she 
 couldn't make it even ; how the small fin- 
 gers had trembled in anxiety as they had 
 worked. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs had now had Dally nearly two 
 weeks, and those weeks had been one round 
 of excitement for the Yankee woman, who 
 had never conceived that any human creature 
 could be quite so ignorant and shiftless as this 
 child was. Was it possible that there were 
 people in the world who didn't know how 
 to mix doughnuts ; who thought corn-bread 
 was better than " light-bread ;" who called 
 tomatoes " poma-toes ;" who spoke of noth- 
 ing as " meat " but bacon ; who asked where 
 things " were at ;" who called going to meet-
 
 !6 DALLY 
 
 ing " gvvine to preachin' ;" who called a har- 
 ness " the gears ;" who spoke of kindling a 
 lamp as " makin' er light." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs dared not go on with this 
 kind of meditation, for she felt if she did so 
 she should flounder hopelessly in the accu- 
 mulation of memories of the strange things 
 Dally was saying and doing all the time. 
 
 Only the night before, it was not until 
 Dally had gone to bed that she remembered 
 that she had not brought in the dry wood 
 for making the fire in the morning. Sud- 
 denly Mrs. Jacobs saw a figure with bare 
 feet and in its night-gown flying through 
 the kitchen and out of doors. Before she 
 could collect herself and follow, Dally had 
 returned, bearing an armful of " pine trash." 
 
 " I done forgot ter tote thur wood," she 
 explained, and was going back to her bed 
 with her feet wet with mud and snow. 
 
 She could hardly be made to comprehend 
 why a tub must be brought and her feet 
 washed. 
 
 "Mighty king!" she cried out at last, 
 "we don't do that-a-way in Calliny. Ole 
 Tid would er let me car* er load er mud ter 
 bed fur all of her a carin'."
 
 DALLY r; 
 
 It seemed incredible to Mrs. Jacobs that 
 she must instruct a girl of fourteen that she 
 should not go out in her night clothes of a 
 March night and bring in wood, even though 
 she had forgotten to do so previously. 
 
 "And as to that," went on the Widder 
 'Bijah, with painful earnestness, " don't ever 
 get up, even in summer, and leave the house 
 without dressin'. What shall I do with you? 
 You make me think of the prayer-book Mrs. 
 Lander uses." 
 
 Dally was sitting with her feet in a tub 
 of water and with an enormous gray shawl, 
 which had belonged to Abijah, wrapped 
 around her shoulders. Her light hair was 
 all in a fluff about her face, and her brown 
 eyes were penitent and wondering. At this 
 mention of the prayer-book she laughed a 
 little. She said she didn't see how such a 
 " triflin' critter" as she was could make any- 
 body think of anything so good as a prayer- 
 book must be. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs could not help smiling fondly 
 into those young eyes, which met hers so 
 frankly. 
 
 "You needn't think that," she answer- 
 ed, laughing out as she spoke, with a sense 
 
 2
 
 X 8 DALLY 
 
 of happiness she could hardly understand. 
 " 'Tain't much of a compliment to you what 
 I thought. 'Twas where it says leavin' un- 
 done things you ought ter do, 'n' doin' them 
 things you hadn't ought ter do. You're up 
 to that kind of actions 'bout all the time." 
 
 The smile died out of Daily's face. 
 
 "Yo* ain't gwine ter be sorry yo' took 
 me, be yo' ?" she asked, her lips quivering. 
 
 The thrifty Yankee looked at the " triflin' 
 critter " and said : 
 
 "Sorry? Gracious, no! I'm thankful 
 every day of my life. Though you be try- 
 in', Dally." 
 
 The girl sprang out of her tub of water, 
 making a dreadful splash as she did so. She 
 flung her arms round her friend's neck and 
 hugged her convulsively. 
 
 " I never knowed folks could be so good," 
 she sobbed, " an' I do try every day not ter 
 be so triflin'. Yo' see I was let to be so. 
 I'm jest like er fyst I used ter have." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs held her close a moment, and 
 then she hurried her off to bed and returned 
 to mop up the water which had been spilled. 
 Something troubled her as she did so. When 
 the floor was dry she hastened into the lit-
 
 DALLY jg 
 
 tie bedroom where Dally lay. She saw the 
 shining of her eyes, so she had no hesitation 
 in saying : 
 
 " Be you awake?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " You said you was jest like a fyst. Now, 
 what is a fyst?" 
 
 She anxiously awaited the reply, which 
 came quickly enough. 
 
 " Law me ! It's only er little dog. My 
 Jinny was jest like that yo" said thur prayer- 
 book said an' like me, yo' know. Oh, I do 
 wish I could have a pup ! Bill Winslow's 
 got two houn's, they be. He said as he 
 would like ter give me one. Kin I hev it?" 
 
 "You needn't have no Winslow pups," 
 said Mrs. Jacobs, with some asperity. " But 
 I'll see 'bout one, somehow." 
 
 When the widow looked in the room 
 again an hour later, at precisely nine o'clock, 
 she was surprised to find Dally still awake 
 and evidently crying. 
 
 " 'Tain't nothin' yoVe done," she hastened 
 to say, " but I war er thinkin' that mabby 
 yo' couldn't hev both, er puppy an' Barker, 
 an' I'd hev Barker though I do lurv pups 
 so! Ef yo' could hev him,yo' know."
 
 20 DALLY 
 
 "Who in the world is Barker?" questioned 
 Mrs. Jacobs, in great surprise. 
 
 " He's my brother down ter ole Tid's. 
 He war left thur when thur lady took me." 
 
 But Mrs. Jacobs shrank from the thought 
 of Barker. 
 
 " Is he like you?" she asked. 
 
 " He ain't nigh so pooty," was the guile- 
 less response. 
 
 " I think's likely," said the other, smiling. 
 
 "An' folks use ter say he war kind of er 
 heifer, yo' know." 
 
 " Kind of er heifer?" repeated Mrs. Jacobs. 
 " I thought you said he was your brother." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. He is. But ole Tid, an' 
 they, use ter call him 'Yo' sullen heifer, yo'.' 
 But it war the way he war brought urp." 
 
 " I d' know what you mean." 
 
 " I mean they didn't like him," replied 
 Dally, unable to explain that in North Caro- 
 lina to call a person " a heifer," and particu- 
 larly if you prefix the word "sullen," is to 
 use a term of great reproach. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs tucked the clothes round the 
 girl, kissed her and told her they wouldn't 
 talk any more that night. 
 
 It was all this, and more, which Mrs.
 
 DALLY 21 
 
 Jacobs was thinking about as she sat idle 
 for a full half-hour after Mrs. Winslow left 
 her. She did not wonder that the neighbors 
 pitied her, and thanked God they had been 
 spared the "takin' of Dally." But, as the 
 lonely woman told herself, " they only saw 
 the trial part of it ; they didn't know any- 
 thing about the comfort of it." What could 
 they know of the thrill of long unused ten- 
 derness that woke in that heart when Dally 
 put her arms round Mrs. Jacobs's neck and 
 kissed her with a lavish fondness that could 
 not be other than real ? 
 
 The widow suddenly flung out one hand 
 with a rare impetuousness of gesture. 
 
 " I don't care what they think, or what 
 they say !" she cried. " I guess I know 
 what I'm about, 'n' I'll keep the child if it 
 kills me !" 
 
 It was really very wearing, however, to 
 find the next day, which was Saturday, when 
 there was no school, that the dinner dishes, 
 which she had packed into the sink to be 
 washed, were all gone. She knew Dally had 
 not washed them. But where were they? 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs had just returned from run- 
 ning down the road to see how Miss Bently
 
 22 DALLY 
 
 was. Dally entered the house at about the 
 same time, and was singing a camp-meeting 
 tune. When asked where the dishes were, 
 she responded promptly that she had just 
 put them " in thur branch." 
 
 Poor Widder 'Bijah sat down suddenly, 
 feeling weak and helpless. She asked what 
 the branch was, and after some explanation 
 she understood that it was the brook which 
 ran at the foot of the hill back of the house. 
 The dishes, including silver spoons, were de- 
 posited in the stream, that the running wa- 
 ter might clean them. Not only had Dally 
 done this thing, but she had advised Mariet- 
 ta Winslow to use the branch near her house 
 for the same purpose, as dish-washing was so 
 tiresome. The two girls were going to re- 
 port to each other at school on Monday. 
 But they were not obliged to wait until 
 Monday. Before Dally and her friend could 
 start to the brook in the hope of saving at 
 least the spoons, the door was flung violent- 
 ly open, and Mrs. Winslow, gripping her 
 daughter Marietta by the hand, entered. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs immediately rose to the oc- 
 casion. She felt that she might be put 
 down by some folks, but not by old Silas
 
 DALLY 23 
 
 Jones's daughter. She told Mrs. Winslow 
 she hoped she'd set right down and make 
 her a little visit. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow snorted. She seemed strug- 
 gling to speak coherently. At last she said 
 it wa'n't no time for visitin' ; that she 
 s'posed all her pink chiny was gone to the 
 old Harry, to say nothin' of her grand- 
 mother's silver spoons. " 'N' all owin' to 
 that Caroliny gal," pointing at Dally, who 
 had exchanged one anxious glance with 
 Marietta, and now stood with flushed face 
 and drooped head. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs was very calm, and almost 
 sweet, as she advised her caller to wait a 
 few minutes till she could speak a little 
 plainer, 'n' not come so nigh swearin'. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow swallowed two or three 
 times before she could say that she came to 
 tell Miss Jacobs that " if she caught that 
 Dally ever speakin' to her Marietta or 
 any of her children again, she would she 
 would " here she swallowed again and 
 grew purple in the face, and could not fin- 
 ish her sentence. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs waited in the same calm way. 
 Mrs. Winslow twitched her daughter round
 
 24 DALLY 
 
 towards the door and then was able to say, 
 over her shoulder: 
 
 " We had comp'ny to dinner, 'n' so 'twas 
 our pink chiny that went into the brook." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs followed the woman to the 
 door. 
 
 " I should have thought," she said, com- 
 miseratingly, "that a gal brought up like 
 your Marietta wouldn't have put chiny into 
 no brook."
 
 Ill 
 
 HOW DALLY KEPT HER PUPPY 
 
 'HE'S a mighty thunderin' good 
 woman, or else she's weak in her 
 mind ; 'n' we all know she's bright- 
 er V all the rest of the female kind round 
 here. That's my opinion." 
 
 As he was speaking, Mr. Peter Winslow, 
 the husband of Mrs. Winslow, " she that was 
 a Jones," and the father of Marietta, was 
 slowly winding a long gray comforter round 
 his neck, and standing heavily by the kitch- 
 en stove. Though it was the last of March, 
 there was a " robin snow " falling outside, 
 and Mr. Winslow was believed by his family 
 to have a weak throat, though he never 
 manifested any signs of such weakness. 
 
 "Yes,"he repeated, looking somewhat bel- 
 ligerently at his wife, " I call the Widder 
 'Bijah a Christian woman, er takin' in that 
 Caroliny gal; 'n' I'm goin' to give her that 
 spotted pup. I seen she wanted it, 'n' Bill
 
 2 6 DALLY 
 
 said he b'lieved she'd give her eyes for it. 
 I shall give it to her. I shall take it this 
 morning. I s'pose you hear what I say?" 
 again eying his wife, who was picking over 
 a pan of beans and who now announced 
 that she "wa'n't deef." 
 
 " All right, then. I'm goin' to give Dally 
 that spotted pup. It'll make a good wood- 
 chuck dog; but I sh'll give it to her." 
 
 He kept tying and untying his comforter 
 as he stood. He was afraid of his wife, but 
 he had resolved as to what he would do 
 with that puppy. He had been making up 
 his mind for several days, and had only now 
 got his courage to the sticking-point. 
 
 He walked as far as the door, and, as he 
 raised the latch, he informed Mrs. Winslow 
 that he "wa'n't goin 'to have no words flung 
 at him after the thing was done." 
 
 He went out to the barn, and very soon 
 was seen going through the yard with the 
 dog in his arms. 
 
 "Marietta," said her mother sharply, "go 
 'n' tell your father I wanter see him." 
 
 The girl hung back, but she did finally 
 run through the snow and give the mes- 
 sage. Mr. Winslow was already covered
 
 DALLY 27 
 
 with the big, soft flakes. He was out of 
 sight of his wife and so could summon 
 courage to say he was in a hurry, and to 
 stride on. His daughter hurried also and 
 caught hold of his arm, whispering eagerly: 
 
 " You give it to her, pa ! You give Dally 
 the pup and my love. Don't you mind 
 ma!" 
 
 It was thus that Dally got the hound 
 puppy, after all, and Mrs. Jacobs could not 
 refuse it from Mr. Winslow's hands, though 
 the appearance of that gentleman when ab- 
 solutely in the act of bestowing his gift was 
 probably akin to the aspect of Macbeth when 
 doing the fatal deed. He tried, however, to 
 put on a matter-of-course look of courage. 
 Dally was hugging the puppy and almost 
 weeping with joy over him. 
 
 Mr. Winslow pulled on his gray mittens. 
 He felt the squinting regard of the Widder 
 'Bijah upon him. 
 
 "I hope," said she, "that your wife knows 
 of this." 
 
 " I told her," said Mr. Winslow, bravely. 
 He put his hands deep down in the im- 
 mense pockets of his overcoat and added 
 with visible importance: "My wife knows
 
 28 DALLY 
 
 her place too well to dispute what I de- 
 cide." 
 
 He felt Daily's admiring and grateful gaze 
 upon him, and he knew that she believed 
 what he said ; but he had never seen Mrs. 
 Jacobs's smile so pitying. He lumbered out 
 into the mild snowstorm. He dreaded to 
 go home. He had a great temptation to 
 take off his comforter, get cold in his throat, 
 and thus, even at the sacrifice of his health, 
 distract his wife's mind from the lecture she 
 would give him. . 
 
 But he went home. He was jovially 
 whistling when he opened the back door. He 
 found that Mrs. Winslow, with ostentatious 
 virtue, was scrubbing the floor on her knees. 
 She begged him not to come tracking in 
 there. She said there was wood enough 
 wantin' to be chopped to take him a fort- 
 night. He went quickly and dutifully out 
 to the woodshed and began to chop. He 
 was there soon joined by Marietta, who came 
 lurking round from a side door, with a 
 square of red flannel pinned over her head. 
 
 " Oh, pa !" she cried in a suppressed voice. 
 " ma's ben a carryin* on jest awful !" 
 
 " Don't talk 'bout your ma, child," said
 
 DALLY 29 
 
 Mr. Winslow, and then immediately inquired 
 anxiously, "What she ben a doin' now?" 
 
 Marietta pulled the square of flannel yet 
 closer about her head and almost whim- 
 pered : 
 
 " Tain't so much what she's ben doin'; 
 it's more the way she's ben lookin'." 
 
 Mr. Winslow chopped very hard. He 
 knew well what were his wife's capabilities 
 in the way of looks. He had had a good 
 chance to learn in the last twenty-five years. 
 He had often said to himself "he'd ruther 
 she'd fly at him with a tomahawk than git 
 one er them looks on." 
 
 " Your ma has her trials, I expect," he 
 said with a desperate effort to be charitable. 
 
 " I sh'd like ter know what they be, then !" 
 responded his daughter. " We're all 'fraid 
 as death of her; 'n' there ain't a breath 
 drawn in this house 'thout she's willin'. I 
 d' know what her trials be." 
 
 Mr. Winslow said nothing. The father 
 and daughter stood in silence, but they ex- 
 perienced great comfort in being there to- 
 gether. The woodhouse had been the scene 
 of many consultations between the two, and 
 of many regrets that " Ma was just as she was."
 
 30 DALLY 
 
 It was on the next Saturday that Marietta 
 and her father were again standing among 
 the piles of wood and the chips. It had 
 been an awful week for them. Ma had kept 
 on " her look " all the week, and she had per- 
 sistently refused to eat anything but crusts 
 at the table. She said crusts was good 
 'nough for a woman who wa'n't respected 
 by her husband. Here her husband groaned. 
 He remonstrated with her; he said "she'd 
 do herself a damage goin' on in this way." 
 She made no reply, other than to take an- 
 other crust and try to eat it with her poor 
 teeth. Marietta grinned heartlessly. She 
 tried to comfort her father by telling him it 
 was her belief that her ma, when alone in the 
 "but'ry," made up for those crusts. 
 
 It was while they were in the woodhouse 
 on the following Saturday that Mrs. Wins- 
 low's gray shawl and red cloud were seen 
 moving rapidly across the brown, soggy past- 
 ure towards the Widder 'Bijah's house. Mrs. 
 Winslow herself was inside the shawl and 
 hood. As she expressed it, she " had ben 
 growin' madder 'n' madder every minute all 
 the week." She said she wa'n't the woman 
 to be insulted by no man, not even her own
 
 DALLY 31 
 
 husband. She didn't care a cent 'bout the 
 pup, 'twas the principle of the thing. 
 
 Thus it was in behalf of principle that she 
 was striding towards that white house be- 
 hind the poplars ; and for the same reason 
 that she suddenly flung open the door and 
 walked in. 
 
 Dally was standing at the sink with a dark 
 gingham " tire " enveloping her whole per- 
 son. She was laboriously and despairingly 
 scouring steel knives and forks with a piece 
 of cork and some Bristol brick. It was like 
 a sudden clap of thunder to her when she 
 saw Mrs. Winslow, whom she now hated with 
 a fury and fire not to be described. Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs was " trying out fat " on the cook-stove, 
 and held a long toasting-fork in her hand. 
 With this fork she was turning over the lumps 
 of suet. 
 
 " I s'pose you wa'n't expectin' of me," be- 
 gan the visitor, with an assumption of calm- 
 ness which did not deceive anybody. 
 
 " No, I wa'n't," was the response. 
 
 " Wall, I came after that pup." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs looked anxiously at Dally, 
 who had stopped her work and was staring 
 hard at the round, red face near the door.
 
 32 DALLY 
 
 " We ain't got no pup that don't b'long 
 to us," answered Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 " You've got one my husband brought 
 over here a week ago to-day, at half-past ten 
 in the morning," said Mrs. Winslow, with an 
 air as if she were on a witness-stand and must 
 be accurate. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Jacobs, "we've got that 
 one. That belongs to Dally. Mr. Winslow 
 give it to her. She's got terribly 'tached to 
 it already." 
 
 "Where is it?" asked Mrs. Winslow, look- 
 ing all about the room. 
 
 As if in reply to her question a fat, smooth 
 hound puppy came waddling through an 
 open door and went and smelt of Mrs. 
 Winslow's skirts. She bent down and took 
 him in her arms. 
 
 " I guess I'll give him to Brother 'Lish's 
 son," she said, and turned to leave. 
 
 Dally cried out. The child's heart was 
 bursting. A sense of intolerable injury and 
 grief was upon her. She caught up the big 
 carving-knife she had been going to scour. 
 She flung it at Mrs. Winslow. It stuck in 
 the door close to her. A half of a Bristol 
 brick followed, and this went with a thud
 
 DALLY 33 
 
 right on to the " bob " of hair which was 
 concealed by Mrs. Winslow's red cloud. 
 
 Dally herself charged after the brick with 
 a fervor and impetuosity only to be likened 
 to the onset of a wildcat. The undisciplined 
 mountain blood nerved her, and the strong 
 mountain muscles seconded her. It was in 
 vain that Mrs. Jacobs tried to interfere. The 
 girl was all over her enemy, scratching, claw- 
 ing, striking all at once. She did not make 
 a sound. At first Mrs. Winslow kept shriek- 
 ing out that she would send for the select- 
 men. But in a moment she found she need- 
 ed all her breath to help in her defence. Of 
 course she had to drop the puppy after the 
 fight had continued for a very short time. 
 
 Dally gave one more blow, then left her 
 enemy and darted for her treasure. She sat 
 down on the floor with the dog in her arms 
 and hid her face upon him, shaking piteously 
 and moaning to herself. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow's cloud was in shreds and 
 her face bleeding from Daily's nails. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs opened a closet near, took out 
 a bottle and suggested that she be allowed 
 to put some " arnicy onto them hurts." 
 
 But Mrs. Winslow was in no mood for ar- 
 3
 
 34 DALLY 
 
 nica. She said 'twas the law she wanted, 'n' 
 'twas the law she'd have. 
 
 She was sopping up the blood with her 
 apron as she spoke. Mrs. Jacobs put back 
 the vial. She turned towards the bloody- 
 faced woman and said she was mighty sorry 
 this had happened, but she must say that if 
 Mis' Winslow wanted the law she might have 
 it 'n' welcome ; but she couldn't have Daily's 
 puppy, for it had ben give to her and was 
 hern. Nobody had no more right to come 
 'n' take that dorg 'n' they had to break into 
 er house 'n' take silver spoons. 'N' if Mis' 
 Winslow wanted the law, 'n' the case was 
 known, she guessed Mis' Winslow 'd git all 
 the law she hankered for. 
 
 It may be possible that the speaker did 
 not fully understand the status of the dog in 
 the laws of the land, but her remarks were 
 full of common-sense, and they produced a 
 great effect upon the person to whom they 
 were addressed. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow huddled her shawl over her 
 head and went back over the pasture towards 
 her home. 
 
 It was on her return that she burst into 
 the wood-house where her husband and Mari-
 
 DALLY 35 
 
 etta were. They were horrified, of course. 
 She told Mr. Winslow that he upheld folks 
 in their tryin' to murder his wife. She said 
 that that Caroliny gal had come within an 
 inch of killing her, 'n* she s'posed he'd be 
 glad of it. She did not mention the puppy. 
 At last Marietta asked humbly " if her moth- 
 er 'd seen that pup." 
 "Yes, I seen it." 
 
 " Did you try to take it away from Dally ?" 
 " 'Tain't no matter whether I did or not." 
 " Oh !" said Marietta, now thoroughly en- 
 lightened. 
 
 Contrary to expectation in the Winslow 
 family, the wife and mother suddenly put 
 away " that look," became amiable for a long 
 time and never mentioned the puppy again. 
 " That thar Dally done her good," said 
 Mr. Winslow, with a shrewd look at his daugh- 
 ter, in one of their confidential talks.
 
 IV 
 
 DALLY TAKES THE PLEDGE 
 
 'OMETIMES it does seem as if 
 'twas more than I can do to stan' 
 it." 
 
 Mrs. Abijah Jacobs was mounted in a chair 
 before the open door of her " chiny closet." 
 She was groping with her hand in the dark- 
 ness of the upper shelf, seeking to find the 
 row of bottles which held her supply of spir- 
 ituous liquors " for sickness." She had three 
 bottles, each holding a pint. One held whis- 
 key, one brandy, and one cherry rum, the 
 latter made every year from the best Jamaica 
 rum and wild cherries from the tree that 
 grew in the lane. 
 
 " That's what we all say, Mis' Jacobs," 
 responded the neighbor. She was waiting 
 with a thin blue teacup in which to carry 
 home some cherry-rum for her daughter, 
 who was supposed to have been too free 
 in her use of cucumbers which had been
 
 DALLY 37 
 
 sliced and allowed to become flabby. As the 
 mother said, in her impatience, that she 
 " didn't know but 'twas good 'nough for 
 D'rindy to have a touch of cholery mobbus, 
 if she was a mind ter chaw down them with- 
 ered cowcumbers. Jest as they were trying 
 to" can huckleberries, too !'' 
 
 The widow Jacobs did not reply to the 
 remark, and the woman repeated, " That's 
 what we all say." 
 
 Now Mrs. Jacobs turned round so sud- 
 denly on her chair that she had to catch at 
 a shelf to keep herself from falling. 
 
 "What do you all say?" she asked, sharp- 
 
 iy. 
 
 D'rindy's mother cowered somewhat, but 
 she replied bravely : 
 
 "That we don't see how you do stan' it 
 with that gal you took. Mis' Winslow was 
 tellin' only yisterday that she was expectin' 
 to live to see the day when you'd send Dally 
 to the poorhouse." 
 
 " She won't, then ; not if she lasts 's long 's 
 Methusaleh did," said the widder 'Bijah, 
 growing very red in the face as she spoke. 
 " Not but what she is a trial, and I do git 
 out of patience with her," she added, more
 
 38 DALLY 
 
 mildly. " But I d' know what we can expect 
 of a critter brought up on White Crow 
 Mounting, down in Caroliny. She ain't had 
 the privileges that Mis' Winslow's sut under 
 all her life. We can't all be Mis' Winslows, 
 you know." 
 
 The withering sarcasm of the last remark 
 almost made the woman with the blue tea- 
 cup tremble as she heard it. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs laboriously dismounted from 
 the chair, changed its position a little, then 
 laboriously mounted it again, and this time 
 she put her hand on the row of pint bottles, 
 which it seemed to her had been put in the 
 wrong corner. 
 
 " Here they be," she said. " I'll give ye 
 a stiff dose of the cherry, Mis' Willey, so as 
 to bring D'rindy right out of it." 
 
 When the liquid was poured out it seemed 
 to both women to be very pale. 
 
 " I d' know why it should look so," said the 
 widow. "Jest sup at it 'n' see how it tastes." 
 
 Mrs. Willey " supped " at it, and hesitated 
 to speak. Finally she said it was " ruther 
 flat, somehow ; but mebby 'twas her no- 
 tion."
 
 DALLY 39 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs put the cup to her lips and 
 withdrew it suddenly. 
 
 " 'Tain't your notion," she said, crisply ; 
 " it's flat as rags. I declare !" 
 
 She took the bottle of whiskey and of 
 brandy and held each to the light. It did 
 not seem to either of the women that they 
 were of the proper color. 
 
 Mrs. Willey was beginning to enjoy the 
 situation. But she drew a long face and 
 said : 
 
 " And your liquors are always so good ! 
 Strange, ain't it? You don't noways think, 
 do you, now, that " 
 
 She did not finish her sentence, for in the 
 open doorway, leading from the woodshed, 
 appeared the figure of Dally. 
 
 The child had her stockings and shoes in 
 her hand, while her feet and quite an extent 
 of slim leg were caked with half-dry, black 
 meadow mud. Her straw " shaker bonnet " 
 hung by its strings on her back. Her light 
 hair was curling with perspiration, and her 
 face had a good deal of meadow mud 
 " smooched " on it. One arm held closely 
 pressed to her a large quantity of sweet flag-
 
 40 
 
 DALLY 
 
 root, its long green leaves hanging down and 
 dripping. Close to her bare feet was the 
 hound puppy which Mr. Winslow had given 
 her, and which Mrs. Winslow had tried to 
 take away. He also was dripping with mud- 
 dy water. 
 
 Dally had opened her lips to speak, and 
 her whole aspect was one of happy eager- 
 ness, when her eyes caught sight of the three 
 bottles, which were standing in a row on the 
 table. 
 
 She shrank as suddenly and markedly as a 
 sensitive plant shrinks before rude hands. 
 
 " Dally," said Mrs. Jacobs, " come here." 
 
 There was an instant's hesitation before 
 the girl replied, without stirring from her 
 position : 
 
 " I 'low I ain't gwine ter move, nor ter tell 
 you uns nary word till that ole 'oman goes." 
 
 She sat down in a dingy heap on the 
 scrubbed floor. She let the flag-root fall that 
 she might the better hug the puppy, which 
 immediately crept into her lap with a small, 
 babyish whine. The girl's face seemed to 
 harden behind its mask of mud. 
 
 The Widder 'Bijah felt her heart sink at 
 the same time that an overwhelming and
 
 DALLY 41 
 
 yearning love filled it. This love, awak- 
 ened by Dally, made Mrs. Jacobs seem 
 strange to herself. She had a nebulous 
 kind of consciousness that it was taking the 
 edges off her character in some way. And, 
 in spite of all her common-sense and no 
 woman ever had more of that article the 
 affection she gave the poor waif from the 
 Carolina mountains appeared to her to be 
 the same emotion that had been gathering 
 all these years for the daughter who had 
 never been born. Altogether, Dally had 
 awakened in this elderly Yankee woman a 
 glow and a sense of new vividness in life 
 which confused while it exhilarated. She told 
 herself nearly every day that " she s'posed 
 she should git her bearin's 'fore long." 
 
 It was March when Dally had been seen 
 at the Jacobs gate in the too large plaid 
 cloak, and with the rain in drops on her 
 beautiful hair and eyelashes, bearing that 
 letter from Mrs. Lander. And now it was 
 July, and the widow had not got her " bear- 
 in's " yet, and seemed as far from that state 
 as ever. 
 
 When Mrs. Willey heard the child's reply 
 she grasped the blue teacup tightly in the
 
 4 2 DALLY 
 
 hardened fingers of her right hand. She 
 smiled, and she tossed her head. Was she 
 going to be called an old woman by that lit- 
 tle viper from down South ? 
 
 She* marched to the door. There she 
 paused long enough to say " she guessed 
 Mis' Winslow 'd ben right when she said 
 there shouldn't no child of hern be seen with 
 that gal Mis' Jacobs had took." 
 
 Then she walked away, followed by an 
 indescribable gaze from Daily's wide eyes. 
 
 If there was anything in life to which the 
 widow of Abijah Jacobs had been accus- 
 tomed it was to being equal to emergencies. 
 She had known exactly what to do when her 
 husband's hired man had cut his leg so hor- 
 ribly with his scythe. Everybody had said 
 that if she hadn't done just what she did, 
 the man would have bled to death before 
 the doctor came. In preserving time, when 
 jelly wouldn't jell, she knew how to bring it 
 to terms, and no jelly had ever been known 
 to hold out long in rebellion beneath her 
 hands. After 'Bijah had died she not only 
 knew how to manage the property, but che 
 knew how to refuse the men who came in 
 the hope of consoling her and of sharing that
 
 DALLY 43 
 
 property. There was not any one in Ran- 
 som so " facultied " and so capable. 
 
 But here she was sitting beside the table 
 which held the three bottles, feeling so weak 
 and wretched that she could have covered 
 her face with her hands and wept. She knew 
 that Mrs. Willey would go through the neigh- 
 borhood, telling how Dally had drunk all that 
 liquor. " Liquor " is what all kinds of fluid 
 material containing alcohol is called in 
 Ransom. 
 
 Worse still, Dally had probably really 
 drunk the whiskey, and the brandy, and the 
 rum, and then filled the bottles with wa- 
 ter. And now it was possible she would lie 
 about it. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs looked at the girl. She 
 thought wildly of sending for the minister. 
 She wondered if she had failed in not taking 
 Dally to more evening prayer-meetings. But 
 the girl had slept so heavily through them 
 that it seemed cruel not to let her go to bed 
 instead of taking her out. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs had been leaning her head on 
 her hand and shading her eyes while she 
 thought painfully. After a few moments 
 she looked up to speak to Dally, but she was
 
 44 
 
 DALLY 
 
 not there. The puppy, however, was having 
 a nap on sweet flag leaves. As Mrs. Jacobs 
 walked to the door the girl came in with a 
 bound, looking so fierce that the other asked 
 quickly where she had been. 
 
 " I war gwine ter shy er rock at thur dad- 
 burned ole heifer, I war," she answered, 
 breathlessly. 
 
 " You don't mean at Mis' Willey ?" was the 
 horrified question, as Mrs. Jacobs started for- 
 ward to see what damage had been done, re- 
 membering Daily's onslaught on Mrs. Wins- 
 low. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, at she," Dally said. 
 
 Then she caught her friend's arm and con- 
 tinued : " But I didn't do hit no, ma'am ; I 
 didn't do hit. But it wasn't 'cause I didn't 
 long ter see er rock bangin' on ter her cussed 
 ole head !" 
 
 Dally was trembling with excitement, and 
 was absolutely white. She held on tightly 
 to Mrs. Jacobs's arm, and gazed eagerly in 
 her eyes. 
 
 Even in the midst of her anger and fury 
 there was in the attitude something of appeal. 
 
 "No," repeated Dally in a shrill voice, "I 
 didn't do hit, only jes' 'cause I thought of
 
 DALLY 45 
 
 you, somehow, 'n' held my hand ; 'n 1 the rock 
 wouldn't go. Thar 'tis." 
 
 She pointed just beside the doorstep, where 
 a ragged stone of the size of her fist lay, ap- 
 parently just dropped. 
 
 " If she'd er said nothin' 'ginst yo', 's well 
 's 'ginst me, I'd er let the rock rip !" 
 
 " Dally." 
 
 The girl stood quivering. Mrs. Jacobs led 
 her into the room, and the small hound pup- 
 py followed dejectedly at her heels, and sat 
 down on his haunches close to those heels, 
 when they paused near the table, where the 
 bottles stood. 
 
 " I s'pose you drunk them, Dally," said 
 Mrs. Jacobs, pointing to the bottles. 
 
 Dolly quivered again. She seemed to un- 
 dergo some kind of an inward convulsion. 
 Then she said : 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " At odd times when yo' war summers else." 
 
 " Oh, how could you ?" 
 
 "Jest as easy I liked 'em all. Thur 
 whiskey war the best. I've allers had whis- 
 key. Ole Tid had her bottle, she did, an' 
 Barker an' me we jest cotched er sup when-
 
 46 DALLY 
 
 ever we could. Most times hit war two or 
 three times er day. I like hit." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs sat down. Her way seemed 
 dark before her. With a despairing move- 
 ment she drew the girl towards her and leaned 
 her head on the young shoulder. She was 
 asking herself why she was so depraved as to 
 love this creature who owned she was used 
 to drinking whiskey, and liked it. But she 
 had owned it. There was a glimmer of light. 
 She had owned it. 
 
 Dally tried to stand quite still, but she vi- 
 brated beneath the touch of the head on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 After a moment Mrs. Jacobs felt an arm 
 which was very aromatic with sweet flag put 
 gently round her neck. 
 
 " You've ben real good for several weeks, 
 Dally," said the woman. 
 
 Dally choked. She essayed to speak twice 
 before she was able to say : 
 
 " But I war er drinkin' that stuff all thur 
 time ;" in a moment she added with some 
 unction, " Thur whiskey war thur best." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs drew Dally and all her mud 
 into her lap, and the puppy climbed into 
 Daily's lap. 

 
 DALLY 47 
 
 "And me the greatest temp'rance woman 
 in the town ! " exclaimed the widow. " Why, 
 child, I b'long to all the societies, 'n' yet I 
 can't keep you from drinkin' liquor." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs thought of how she was a 
 member of the W. C. T. U. of the country at 
 large, as it were. And had she not been a 
 member, since the hour of its birth, of the 
 " Sparkling and Bright Battalion," a com- 
 pany formed in the village for the special 
 purpose of seeing to it that the young should 
 not become wine-bibbers? Had she not at- 
 tended their meetings just to encourage 
 them? And was she not scrupulous in keep- 
 ing all her dues paid? She was also, since 
 years ago, a Son of Temperance, as much as 
 a woman could be. She could pay her 
 money, and it was just as good as if she had 
 been a man. She knew they did not care 
 whether she met with " the Division " or not, 
 as long as they had her money. And she al- 
 ways made it a duty to entertain more than 
 her share of temperance " delegates," when 
 delegates were to be entertained. 
 
 It would have been bad enough if she had 
 taken a boy who drank ; but a girl ! 
 
 The aromatic arm had been tightening
 
 48 DALLY 
 
 round her neck. The puppy reached up its 
 cold nose to her face. 
 
 "You feel awful, don't you?" whispered 
 Dally. 
 
 She had grown to have moments of not 
 using her Southern dialect when she spoke; 
 and sometimes she mixed the Yankee speech 
 with it in a way strange to hear. 
 
 Before Mrs. Jacobs could reply, the girl 
 went on : 
 
 " It wa'n't nothin' ter drink whiskey onter 
 White Crow Mounting; it wa'n't. We uns 
 all did hit, ef we gurt er chance. Pore whis- 
 key it war, too. I never supped no sech as 
 yourn." 
 
 "Dally," cried the widow, suddenly, "do 
 you love me? Do you think I've ben good 
 to you ?" 
 
 A beautiful light came into the girl's eyes. 
 Her whole face softened, and now looked 
 touchingly young. 
 
 " Do I lurv yo' ?" she repeated. " Oh, I lurv 
 yo' as no tongue can't never, never tell !" 
 
 Her breath caught, and she struggled 
 with it a minute before she went on. Mrs. 
 Jacobs was looking into the lovely deeps 
 of her eyes.
 
 DALLY 49 
 
 "An' you've ben heavenly kind ter me." 
 
 The woman held the child close before 
 she said, solemnly : 
 
 " I want you to give me a sacred promise, 
 Dally." 
 
 " I will ; I will," said she, brokenly. 
 
 " But you must keep your word if you 
 give it. You know a promise must never 
 be broken." 
 
 Dally nodded. 
 
 " Promise that you will never taste a drop 
 of liquor of any kind, unless it is given you 
 for sickness." 
 
 The girl stood up with a white face and 
 intent eyes and gave the promise. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs took the soiled hands. 
 
 " And don't steal anything, Dally. It is 
 dreadful for me to think you could steal ; 
 and how sly you were !" 
 
 It was impossible to doubt the penitence 
 in the untutored heart. 
 
 When Dally went to bed that night she 
 told " aunty," as she called Mrs. Jacobs, that 
 if Barker could " come urp north " and live 
 with them, he would probably grow so good 
 that by the time he was a man he could be 
 a minister and " give preachin's." 
 4
 
 50 DALLY 
 
 But still the widow shrank from the 
 thought of Barker. 
 
 The next week the Rev. Mr. Alden, the 
 present incumbent of the Ransom pulpit, 
 called on the Widder Bijah. He said that 
 Sister Window had impressed it upon him 
 as his duty to call and ask Sister Jacobs if 
 she had dealt with the girl she had taken 
 from the South. Sister Winslow was con- 
 vinced that the girl should be dealt with. 
 
 The widow replied that if she had not 
 dealt with Dally she was sure of one thing, 
 and that was that there wouldn't nobody 
 else deal with her. 
 
 The minister did not feel exhilarated 
 when he walked away. He was very young 
 and may learn not to follow the advice of 
 Sister Winslow.
 
 V 
 
 DALLY AND MARIETTA HAVE A GOOD TIME 
 
 IR. PETER WINSLOW was the kind 
 of man who, in winter, wore a long 
 blue wool " frock " and a gray com- 
 forter twisted about his neck. 
 
 But in August he could hardly endure 
 that kind of a costume, so he went to the 
 other extreme and wore blue overalls, much 
 faded from frequent washings performed by 
 his wife, and held upon his portly form by 
 one strap of the same material, going up 
 from the left front over his shoulder to the 
 right back. His voluminous white shirt 
 was held down so loosely round the waist 
 by this arrangement in regard to his panta- 
 loons that if there was the least wind going 
 his shirt was filled with it, and presented the 
 appearance of a balloon ready to start on an 
 aerial voyage. 
 
 His wife, who was usually described as 
 " she that was a Jones," as if those words
 
 g2 DALLY 
 
 completely portrayed her, ruled her family, 
 including her husband, with a rod of iron, 
 but she always acknowledged that she had 
 no influence with him in regard to his 
 clothes. She used to declare that she did 
 not believe that the angel Gabriel, if he 
 should come down on purpose to make 
 Peter Winslow wear something decent in 
 summer, would have the slightest influence 
 with Mr. Winslow. This remark was often 
 repeated, and was supposed to convey the 
 idea, in background, as it were, that Mrs. 
 Winslow was as powerless in other matters 
 as she was in regard to the gentleman's ha- 
 biliments. 
 
 Her daughter Marietta, who was her fa- 
 ther's intimate " crony," used to get, as she 
 said, " awful sick of hearin' about the angel 
 Gabriel." 
 
 Mr. Winslow had just driven out of the 
 yard in his hay rigging. He was going to 
 the far meadow. He was standing with his 
 feet, in huge rubber boots, very wide apart 
 and braced so that he could keep his bal- 
 ance as he turned into the road. His faded 
 overalls were secured, as I have said, and his 
 shirt was rounded out in the back with the
 
 DALLY 
 
 53 
 
 breeze to a particularly large circumference; 
 and Mr. Winslow was a large man even 
 without this arrangement. 
 
 " There goes yer father," said Mrs. Wins- 
 low spitefully to Marietta, who was scour- 
 ing a milk-pan, and purposely not putting 
 any strength into her hand as she did so. 
 " There he goes again, lookin' like sin V Sa- 
 tan, with his shirt like that. I feel ashamed 
 ter have the neighbors see him. Why don't 
 he wear a jumper?" 
 
 Marietta dipped her flannel rag into the 
 soft soap and then into the beach sand, and, 
 like a wise child, remained silent. Her fa- 
 ther was often taking her out to the barn or 
 wood-house and cautioning her to hold her 
 tongue. 
 
 "Nothin' '11 take the wind outer yer 
 mother's sails so quick as for us to keep 
 still," he would say. 
 
 Therefore Marietta now kept still. She 
 shut her little mouth very tight, and was 
 saying to herself : 
 
 " If she goes 'n' brings up Gabriel now, 
 I'm afraid I sh'll have to speak." 
 
 Mrs. Winslow would have been shocked 
 if she had thought that she was the means
 
 54 DALLY 
 
 of causing her daughter to think disrespect- 
 fully of any of the heavenly host, but this 
 constant reference had well-nigh removed 
 any emotion of awe there might ever have 
 been in the child's heart in regard to an- 
 gels. 
 
 The woman poured the last of the cream 
 into the churn and slapped the dasher down 
 viciously in it. 
 
 " It's comin'," thought Marietta, lazily 
 taking still more soap. " Oh, I wish I could 
 go down in the medder with par, instid of 
 staying here !" 
 
 " I do b'lieve, 'n' I shouldn't be 'fraid to 
 say it anywheres," said Mrs. Winslow, in 
 her most irritating staccato, " that if the 
 angel Gabriel should tell your father ter 
 wear a jumper ruther than his shirt in that 
 way, he wouldn't do it. Your father, Ma- 
 rietta, is jest as sut 
 
 The girl dropped her rag into the bowl of 
 sand and turned her flushed, freckled face 
 towards the speaker. 
 
 " I do declare, mar," she cried, " that that 
 old Gabriel better stay up in Heaven and 
 mind his business, ruther than be comin' 
 down here medlin' with par's trous'rs. Par's
 
 DALLY 55 
 
 trous'rs are all right. You've been an' got 
 me so's I jest about hate Gabriel ; an' I al- 
 ways uster think he was first-class all round. 
 I" 
 
 Marietta did not know what she should 
 have said, and was at that pitch that she 
 did not care. Mrs. Winslow seized her by 
 the shoulder and shook her violently. 
 
 " You go straight inter the bedroom," she 
 said. " If I've got a child that'll speak dis- 
 respectful of the angel Gabriel, I d' know 
 what we're comin' to. It's all yer father's 
 fault. Don't you come outer that bedroom 
 till I call ye." 
 
 The door was shut and locked, leaving 
 Marietta in a very small room which led 
 from the kitchen. The blind was closed ; 
 the sun was beating hotly on it, and send- 
 ing through the mosquito-netting that was 
 stretched across the window-frame a com- 
 bination of odors of herbs and flowers that 
 grew outside. The perfume of warm sage 
 leaves was the most striking, and it pene- 
 trated to Marietta's disturbed senses and 
 made her think of Thanksgiving turkey and 
 of the times when her mother " fixed sau- 
 sage meat."
 
 56 DALLY 
 
 But it was no time to think of any kind 
 of thanksgiving. 
 
 She threw herself angrily upon the patch- 
 work spread on the bed and did not care 
 how much she " squashed " the high-piled 
 feathers. She was reckless. She told her- 
 self that some girls had mothers that were 
 different. She wished she was old enough 
 to marry, not that she might have a hus- 
 band, but that she might have a home of 
 her own and ask her father to come and 
 live with her. She reviewed the boys of 
 her acquaintance, wondering which one 
 would do the best as a provider of a home 
 for her father. 
 
 Her thoughts soon became indistinct, and 
 her hot, indignant eyes closed. 
 
 It seemed to her that she immediately 
 began to dream that the blind was open, a 
 bar of sunlight on her face, and some one 
 whispering her name. 
 
 Finally she sat up and blinked her eyes 
 in the sunshine. The blind was open, and 
 presently she was able to see a face looking 
 in at her. 
 
 "Git urp," said an eager whisper; "come 
 out hyar."
 
 DALLY 57 
 
 With fear and trembling Marietta crept 
 to the window. 
 
 Daily's chin was resting on the window- 
 ledge, and Daily's vivid face was looking at 
 her and seeming to palpitate as it looked. 
 The expression most visible on it just now 
 was that of joy at seeing her friend. 
 
 " If mother should ketch you !" exclaimed 
 Marietta in a whisper. 
 
 Dally laughed noiselessly. 
 
 " I ain't feared," she whispered back. 
 "Come! I've gurt er pony, an' I war 
 bound yo' should have one er thur fust 
 rides." 
 
 Marietta clasped her hands, which were 
 still soiled with soap and sand and the black 
 from the pans. 
 
 " I can't believe it!" she whispered again, 
 but glanced over her shoulder at the door 
 that led into the kitchen. She repeated in 
 more terrified tones: "Oh, if mother should 
 ketch us ! I jest 's live die 's have her open 
 that door now!" 
 
 " She won't, I tell yo'," replied Dally, with 
 an air of security that greatly impressed 
 Marietta, who asked : " How do you know ?" 
 with something like admiration.
 
 5 8 DALLY 
 
 Instead of replying, Dally put her hand 
 up and gently removed the frame of netting 
 from the window. 
 
 She looked at Marietta with such an in- 
 viting glance that that little girl did not 
 linger any longer in indecision, but put one 
 leg, with a calico " pantalette " on it, over 
 the window-sill ; and as this leg was directly 
 followed by its mate, she was presently 
 standing on the ground close to the sage- 
 bed. Mrs. Winslow had worn pantalettes 
 when she was a child, and she argued that 
 what was good enough for her was good 
 enough for her daughter, though, as Mari- 
 etta rebelliously declared, "nobody else wore 
 such things." 
 
 Dally threw an impulsive arm round 
 Marietta's neck and kissed her. 
 
 "It's turrible long sence I seen yo'," she 
 said softly, her eyes gleaming. 
 
 "I know it," returned the other; " but ye 
 know mother won't let me. She says no 
 child of hern 
 
 " I know 'bout that ; yo' needn't tell me 
 none er that," interrupted Dally with a 
 swift anger. She raised a small and very 
 dirty fist. " Ef she's er mind ter act that
 
 DALLY 
 
 59 
 
 away " she began. But her companion 
 would not let her finish the remark; she 
 seized the fist and drew Dally rapidly along 
 by the currant bushes and the great rhu- 
 barb plants which flapped against their bare 
 ankles until they came to the garden wall. 
 The other side of that wall there was a 
 clump of milkweeds, from whose curious 
 bloom-clusters the sun was drawing out a 
 full torrid fragrance. 
 
 As the two girls climbed over the loosely 
 placed stones, Marietta asked breathlessly: 
 
 "Is it a truly pony?" When they stood 
 on the other side, Dally pulled the other 
 along, as she answered : 
 
 " I hope as yo' ain't gwine ter be disap- 
 pointed. 'Tain't so much of er pony as 'tis 
 er hoss. Yo' didn't expect er teenty-tonty 
 thing, did yo'?" 
 
 " I didn't expect nothin'," replied Mari- 
 etta, looking eagerly in every direction. 
 
 " No more yo' didn't," was the response. 
 "An' 'tain't so much er hoss nor er pony as 
 'tis" 
 
 Here Dally clapped her hands on her own 
 mouth and gazed shiningly over them at 
 Marietta, who was becoming more and more
 
 Oo DALLY 
 
 bewildered. The latter began to run, but 
 allowed herself to be guided by her compan- 
 ion. She announced pantingly that she 
 wouldn't say another word till she was 
 where she couldn't hear her mother if she 
 should holler. 
 
 " She mout holler," returned Dally, " but 
 she can't ketch yo'." 
 
 At this very significant remark, Marietta 
 stopped short. What had Dally done? 
 Marietta had a warm love for Dally, but at 
 this moment she told herself that she was 
 " outlandish," and really one could not tell 
 what an outlandish person might be led to 
 do. In this case she had acknowledged 
 that she had placed Mrs. Winslow in a posi- 
 tion where, though she might " holler," she 
 could " ketch " no one. Marietta was al- 
 most frightened. 
 
 " What you done ?" she asked sharply. 
 " Mar'll see that ye git your come-uppance 
 if you done nothin' to her." 
 
 For reply, Dally only laughed. She 
 laughed with such intense merriment, and 
 the sound was so sweet and infectious, that 
 Marietta was obliged to join her in spite of 
 her doubts.
 
 DALLY 6l 
 
 This child from Carolina possessed a 
 mysterious charm for the Massachusetts 
 child. The leaven of wickedness, the hith- 
 erto unknown flavor of love and caressing, 
 the wild grace of manner, the suspicion of 
 something savage and dreadful, all drew 
 Marietta. Possibly, also, the fact that her 
 mother disapproved lent zest to any inter- 
 view she happened to steal. And the con- 
 trary fact, that her father did not disap- 
 prove, took from the girl any overwhelming 
 sense of sin. 
 
 When the two reached the highway, 
 Marietta felt that her curiosity was getting 
 the better of her. 
 
 " I don't see no pony," she said. 
 
 " I called it er pony," said Dally, hesitat- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Ain't it?" asked Marietta, her freckled 
 . face growing red at the thought of being 
 deceived. 
 
 " It goes jest like er wild-cat," remarked 
 Dally. " Yo' jest look hyar." 
 
 She pulled from behind a clump of sumach 
 what seemed to Marietta's confused sense 
 something very strange two wheels hitched 
 together, one very small and one very large.
 
 62 DALLY 
 
 ''Looker hyar !" cried the other again, in 
 an excited voice. 
 
 Dally sprang on top of those two wheels. 
 She sat astride, and she made her legs go 
 so fast, and the big wheel and the little 
 wheel went so fast, that Marietta fairly 
 shrieked with excited admiration. She 
 clapped her hands, she danced up and 
 down. Once, over in Farnham, she had 
 caught sight of such a thing, but it was 
 only a glimpse, and there was a man on it. 
 She had supposed, of course, that only a 
 man or boy could get on it. It was just 
 like Dally to do that. Dally could do any- 
 thing strange and bewitching. It was the 
 most bewitching thing in the world to be 
 on such a machine, and " to go it " like that. 
 She screamed again as Dally turned and 
 came towards her. " Le'me ! le'me !" she 
 shouted. 
 
 After a great deal of trying to balance 
 against the fence, Marietta succeeded in 
 scrambling on and holding on somehow be- 
 hind Dally, like a monkey behind a rider. 
 
 They were both light in weight, and 
 Dally had learned to ride in a curious, hel- 
 ter-skelter way. She explained that Mrs.
 
 DALLY 63 
 
 Jacobs's nephew, who lived off somewhere, 
 had now gone somewhere else to be away 
 a great while, and he had sent this thing to 
 his aunt to be stored. Marietta ventured 
 to suggest that " mebby they should hurt 
 it," but Dally asserted so positively that it 
 couldn't be hurt that she believed her. 
 
 It was not until the sun had gone behind 
 some pine-trees over towards the west that 
 Marietta's conscience, or her fear, suddenly 
 awakened. 
 
 "Oh," she cried, "jest s'pos'n' if mar has 
 opened that bedroom door!" 
 
 The two girls stood breathing hard, lean- 
 ing against the fence, worn out with pleas- 
 ure. It had even been vouchsafed to Ma- 
 rietta to go six yards alone on the bicycle 
 before she and it fell over. 
 
 " She ain't done hit," remarked Dally, with 
 calm assurance. 
 
 " I'll bet she has," said Marietta. 
 
 "She ain't. But she mout have hollered." 
 
 Marietta began to be frightened again. 
 She looked fearfully at the sweaty, grimy 
 face of her companion. 
 
 " I 'd know what ye mean," she said, just 
 above her breath.
 
 64 DALLY 
 
 Dally returned the glance solemnly. 
 
 " Yo' go straight home now," she advised, 
 "an' go inter that bedroom, 'thout no noise, 
 an' don't yo' come outen thar twel yo' mar 
 opens thur do'. Jest stay, ef yo' do hear no 
 hollerin'. You're locked in, and yo' can't git 
 out." 
 
 Dally delicately mounted the bicycle, but 
 Marietta pulled her down. 
 
 " What ye mean ?" she asked ; " you've 
 got ter tell me." 
 
 " When I see yo' ergin." With this re- 
 ply Dally treadled rapidly away towards the 
 Widder Jacobs's house.
 
 VI 
 
 MRS. PETER WINSLOW SUSPECTS 
 
 [HERE is a great deal of flatness in 
 the feeling one has when creeping 
 home after having run away. It 
 was this emotion which Marietta experi- 
 enced when she climbed the wall where the 
 milkweed was, on her return to imprison- 
 ment, after her afternoon with Dally and 
 the bicycle. 
 
 With each movement that she made she 
 expected to hear her mother, or, worse 
 still, to feel a sharp grip on her shoulder. 
 But all was quiet and peaceful about the 
 farm-house, save the heart of the little girl 
 who was- slowly coming round it. To her 
 the very burdocks up under the wall seemed 
 to reprove her. 
 
 " 'Tain't no fun to come home like this," 
 she whispered ; then she added, " but I did 
 have a good time." 
 
 It was getting almost more than dusk. 
 5
 
 66 DALLY 
 
 She wondered if her father had come back. 
 She was thankful that she heard nothing of 
 her mother, but she was frightened at the 
 strange stillness. What had Dally done? 
 Dally seemed to be capable of doing a great 
 variety of things. And Dally had every 
 reason not to love Mrs. Winslow. 
 
 Marietta entered the bedroom by the win- 
 dow, as she had left it. She felt as if she 
 had been gone a week, and was surprised that 
 nothing in the room had changed. She soft- 
 ly tried the door, and found it still locked. 
 
 How very still the house was ! There was 
 a whippoorwill on the grindstone, and he 
 kept giving forth his call, late in the season 
 as it was. Marietta sat down on the bed 
 and put her fingers in her ears, so that she 
 might not hear the bird. She kept them in 
 for the space of about a quarter of a minute, 
 and then was surprised that the bird was 
 still singing. 
 
 There was the sound of cart-wheels com- 
 ing down the hill. She knew the trot of 
 the horses, and now she heard her father's 
 cheery chirrup to his steeds. 
 
 She was so glad to hear it that she began 
 to cry a little. Was supper ready?
 
 DALLY 67 
 
 When would things -be natural again ? 
 
 She waited breathlessly for the time to 
 come when she should hear her father at 
 the kitchen door. She knew precisely how 
 long it would take him to put the horses in 
 their stalls. He would have to milk by 
 lantern-light to-night, and her mother would 
 scold about that. But where was her moth- 
 er? Dally had said she " mout holler," but 
 she had not done so. 
 
 At last, in desperation, Marietta resolved 
 that she would slowly count a hundred, and 
 if nothing had happened by the time she 
 had finished she would again jump out of the 
 window and see what discoveries she could 
 make. Just as she said "twenty-seven" her 
 father's foot sounded in the wood-house, and 
 at the same moment her mother's voice cried, 
 in an imperative but subdued way: 
 
 " Peter Winslow ! I say, Peter !" 
 The child heard her father exclaim to 
 himself: " Sakes alive! What's up now?" 
 then aloud : " Where be ye?" 
 
 The answer came in unmistakable tones : 
 " I sh'd think you'd know 'nough to know 
 where I be. Any other man 'd know quick 
 'nough, 'thout bein' told."
 
 68 DALLY 
 
 "Wall, you'll have ter tell me, for I can't 
 make out," was the response, good-naturedly. 
 
 Now Marietta heard a great banging on a 
 door. She thought she knew where it was. 
 She felt as if she were made up entirely of 
 astonished interest and surprise. And down 
 at the very bottom of her heart was a won- 
 dering admiration for the individual who had 
 done this. This was a greater deed than 
 putting china dishes in " the branch," that 
 they might wash themselves. 
 
 " I'm down suller !" cried Mrs. Winslow. 
 " You're a pesky fool not ter know that. 
 I've ben screamin' 'n' screamin' to Marietta, 
 but she must sleep like the dead. But then, 
 she's locked in." 
 
 Mr. Winslow's heavy, muffled tread went 
 across the floor. Marietta was now entirely 
 merged into the one act of listening. 
 
 " I sh'd say you was locked up yerself," he 
 said ; and Marietta knew he was turning the 
 heavy oak button which was on the kitchen 
 side of the cellar door, and which was the 
 only fastening, and quite sufficient, too. 
 
 Now by the sound of her mother's voice 
 the child knew she had emerged from her 
 imprisonment.
 
 DALLY 69 
 
 " How in time " began Mr. Winslow, but 
 he was stopped short. 
 
 " Now, don't go to actin' 's if this was the 
 greatest thing you ever heard of," cried the 
 high, rasping voice. "And you needn't 
 laugh. And if you go and tell anybody out- 
 side er this place, I'll " 
 
 The voice paused, inadequate. 
 
 It was impossible for Mr. Winslow to help 
 chuckling softly to himself. But he tried to 
 become grave. He foresaw immediately 
 that it would be a good thing for him to say 
 occasionally to his wife : " When you got 
 shet up in the suller, you know." 
 
 Now he inquired sympathetically "how it 
 happened, and how long she'd ben there?" 
 
 She endeavored to be calm. She did not 
 know where to wreak her anger. And she 
 almost believed it was an accident. 
 
 " I've ben there quite a spell," she an- 
 swered. " I only hope I sha'n't have the 
 rheumatiz to pay for it. I jest went down 
 with my butter. I s'pose when I shet the 
 door behind me, the button turned right 
 on to it. I've ben waitin' for you to 
 come home. I got tired hollerin' to Ma- 
 rietta. Besides, I locked her into the bed-
 
 7 DALLY 
 
 room for bein' sassy. I guess she went to 
 sleep." 
 
 Mrs. Winslow was quite mild. As she 
 walked across the kitchen to the bedroom 
 door she went so far as to express sorrow 
 that supper wasn't ready, and thought they'd 
 have to do with bread and milk this time. 
 
 Marietta, behind that bedroom door, was, 
 to put it rather strongly, in a trance of grati- 
 tude that things were turning out this way. 
 
 She felt sure that Dally, waiting round 
 outside the house for a chance to see her, 
 had seen her mother go down to the cellar, 
 and had promptly and silently walked in 
 and turned that button. And she herself 
 had gone off with Dally before Mrs. Wins- 
 low was ready to come up from the cellar. 
 
 Marietta thought of a Sunday- school 
 story she had just read, where everything 
 had worked together for good for two chil- 
 dren because they did not do wrong. Here 
 was a case that made her almost think that 
 things were quite as likely to work together 
 for good if you did do wrong. If anything 
 ever seemed what folks called providential, 
 this state of affairs seemed so. 
 
 The door was now flung open, and Mrs.
 
 DALLY 7 I 
 
 Winslow told her daughter to run and milk 
 some of the cows for her father, while she 
 " put a few victuals onter the table." 
 
 Father and daughter went silently out. 
 They \vere silent until four of the cows were 
 milked. Then, as they were going back to 
 the barn, after having emptied their pails, 
 Mr. Winslow swung his lantern forward a 
 little, so that its rays fell on his companion's 
 face. 
 
 " Marietta," he said, with solemnity, " that 
 suller door button turns real hard." 
 
 " I know it does, father," she answered, 
 with equal solemnity. 
 
 " Somebody turned it after she was down 
 suller," he said. He usually called his wife 
 "she." 
 
 Marietta did not feel that she could speak. 
 She was going to tell her father everything, 
 but she was not equal to doing so now. 
 
 Mr. Winslow went on in a meditative 
 manner: 
 
 " It couldn't have ben you, Marietta. 
 Was that button turned knowin' that she 
 was down suller?" 
 
 Marietta set her milk-pail suddenly on the 
 ground and seized her father's hand.
 
 72 
 
 DALLY 
 
 "Oh, par!" she whispered, " it all come 
 on account of mar and the angel Gabriel. 
 But don't arsk me no more now. I'll tell 
 you to-morrer." 
 
 "Don't you fret, little girl," was the re- 
 ply. And Marietta touched her cheek for 
 .an instant to Mr. Winslow's shirt sleeve be- 
 fore she relinquished his hand. 
 
 That evening after all had gone to bed in 
 the Winslow house save its mistress, a wom- 
 an was standing in the kitchen with a small 
 kerosene lamp in her hand. 
 
 She had a short petticoat and sacque on, 
 for she had paused in the act of undressing, 
 being struck by a sudden suspicion. 
 
 She felt that she wished to be alone for 
 a few moments, and alone in the kitchen. 
 She held her lamp extended and was look- 
 ing intently at the cellar door. Finally she 
 advanced and put one hand on the button ; 
 she turned it back and forth meditatively. 
 Mr. Winslow's remark to his daughter con- 
 cerning that button was strictly correct. It 
 did "turn real hard." The slamming of the 
 door would not make it move a particle. 
 But Mrs. Winslow tried that experiment 
 several times to convince herself and she
 
 DALLY 73 
 
 was convinced. Her heavy cheeks seemed 
 to grow flabby under the conviction. Her 
 small eyes, set in her head something like 
 those of a pig, began to have a dull, red 
 light in them. " She that was a Jones " was 
 laboring under some excitement. She heard 
 her husband snoring in the " north bed- 
 room," and the sound exasperated her. She 
 turned and almost shook her fist in that di- 
 rection, while she made the following some- 
 what irrelevant remarks : 
 
 " There's Peter, he'd snore if I was be- 
 ing murdered in cold blood." 
 
 To be murdered in cold blood seemed a 
 much more effectual and dreadful way of 
 exit than any other, and it was worse for 
 Peter to snore at such a time. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow advanced and turned that 
 button again ; she was fascinated by it. 
 
 " It never done itself, after all," she said 
 aloud. After a somewhat long silence 
 she uttered the sequel to the above re- 
 mark in the following words : " Somebody 
 done it." 
 
 She held the lamp close to the button and 
 peered at it as if she were a detective and 
 were about to find a small drop of blood.
 
 74 
 
 DALLY 
 
 The oak button remained silent and entirely 
 secretive. One might almost have said that 
 it taunted her. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow withdrew the lamp and set 
 it on the table. She put her hands on her 
 hips and asked : 
 
 "Who done it?" 
 
 The empty room made no reply. Mr. 
 Winslow continued to snore. 
 
 Instead of becoming calm as the moments 
 flew on, this lady felt more and more indig- 
 nant. It certainly was not soothing to be 
 obliged to spend so much time in one's cel- 
 lar. 
 
 "Why didn't Marietta hear me hol- 
 ler?" suddenly asked Mrs. Winslow, still 
 addressing space, and again space did not 
 reply. 
 
 A score of questions were let loose in 
 Mrs. Winslow's brain. She told herself that 
 she shouldn't sleep a wink that night. She 
 said aloud that " she'd find out who done it, 
 and then " here words failed her. 
 
 She disappeared within the bedroom ; the 
 light went out and in five minutes there 
 were two snoring instead of one. 
 
 Marietta had been too nervous and ex-
 
 DALLY 
 
 75 
 
 cited to sleep as usual, and so it happened 
 that she lay with wide open eyes and caught 
 some words of her mother's soliloquy. After 
 this soliloquy ceased the child continued to 
 toss and turn in her room at the other end 
 of the kitchen. At last, with the consoling 
 
 D 
 
 thought in her mind that she " guessed par 
 was enough for 'em," she also fell asleep. 
 
 Meanwhile at the Widder 'Bijah's, Dally 
 had passed an exceedingly peaceful night. 
 She was like one who has the consciousness 
 of having done a good deed. She had been 
 behaving, as Mrs. Jacobs said, " jest beauti- 
 ful " since drinking the three bottles of 
 liquor and taking the pledge thereafter. 
 There was no more liquor in the house to 
 tempt her, and, besides, the child felt strong 
 in the strength of her promise and her love 
 for Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 They had eaten their dinner of pork and 
 string -beans and huckleberry pie. They 
 were still at the table, and the widow was 
 drinking her third cup of tea. Dally sat op- 
 posite her, a pleasant light in her brown 
 eyes and a pleasant curve on her lips. She 
 was evidently thinking of something agree- 
 able. The elder occasionally looked at the
 
 7 6 DALLY 
 
 young face and felt her heart warmed at the 
 sight. 
 
 At last Dally laughed a little and ex- 
 claimed: 
 
 " I wonder if she's gurt out yet." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs smiled in sympathy, and 
 asked : " Who's got out ?" 
 
 Dally stooped to take up her puppy, who 
 was pulling at her skirt, before she answered, 
 in her clear voice, which had so little of the 
 past and so much of the future in it : " That 
 triflin' ole Winslow 'oman." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs placed her cup in its saucer 
 with a clatter. She stopped smiling. What 
 was she going to hear now ? 
 
 " The Lord give me wisdom !" she said to 
 herself. " Don't talk that way, Dally," 
 she said, gravely. "You mean Mis' Wins- 
 low?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 The child held her puppy up under her 
 chin, where it was taking a nap. 
 
 " I didn't know she'd ben shet up." 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am. She war shet up quite 
 er spell yisterday," was the cheerful reply. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In her sullen"
 
 DALLY 77 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs moved uneasily. 
 
 " Who shet her up ?" 
 
 " Me, ma'am," with even greater cheerful- 
 ness. "Leastways I turned thur button, an' 
 I 'low that did thur business."
 
 VII 
 
 MR. PETER WINSLOW WARNS THE WIDOW 
 
 IRS. JACOBS abruptly rose from the 
 dinner -table when she heard this 
 admission from Dally that she had 
 turned that " suller-door button," and thus 
 made Mrs. Winslow a prisoner in her own 
 house, or rather under her own house. 
 
 She walked to the window. She was 
 alarmed and astonished that the first im- 
 pulse of what she would have called her 
 " natural heart " was an impulse of satisfac- 
 tion that that " pesky woman " had been 
 shut in her cellar. She wanted to turn to 
 Dally and say it was good enough for her. 
 She had a wicked satisfaction in thinking 
 how Mrs. Winslow must have felt when she 
 found she couldn't get out. 
 
 The widder 'Bijah drew herself from these 
 thoughts with a sudden gasp of self-reproval. 
 "And me a professor!" she exclaimed in a 
 whisper. She looked furtively back at the
 
 DALLY 79 
 
 child at the table. Dally was placidly in- 
 troducing pieces of pie-crust into the little 
 hound's mouth. At this moment the girl 
 glanced up and met that perplexed and sor- 
 rowful gaze, and her own expression changed 
 instantly. She hugged the puppy to her 
 suddenly and sprang to her feet. 
 
 "Master King!" she cried out, almost 
 fiercely, " yo' ain't er lurvin' that ole 'oman, 
 be yo' ?" 
 
 , " No," said the widow, " I don't love Mis' 
 Winslow a grain." 
 
 " Then, I sh'd think yo'd be glad she war 
 shut urp for a spell," said Dally, her face re- 
 laxing from its anxious look. " I war reck- 
 onin' yo' wouldn't keer. I've ben aimin' ter 
 give she er dab of some kind, an' I done hit." 
 
 Here she began to laugh ; then she re- 
 marked that her only regret was that she 
 had not " ben round nigh 'nough ter hear 
 thur critter holler." 
 
 During these remarks the woman who had 
 undertaken to bring up this Carolina girl 
 stood looking helplessly at her. She had a 
 feeling that that " triflin' ole Winslow 'oman" 
 would make this a kind of crisis. Some- 
 thing must be done. What should it be?
 
 8o DALLY 
 
 The whole affair seemed to Mrs. Jacobs 
 to be a subject for prayerful consideration. 
 She was one of those women to whom a 
 consultation with God was at once practica- 
 ble and needful. But she talked very little 
 about such things. She did not know that 
 Carlyle had said that the man who talks the 
 most about good deeds does the fewest of 
 them ; nevertheless she agreed with Carlyle. 
 
 She told Dally to " pick up the dishes 
 while she went up-stairs a few minutes." 
 
 The child put her dog on the best chair 
 cushion and dutifully began to obey her. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs went into the spare chamber 
 and knelt down by one of the hard chairs 
 which made part of the furniture of that 
 room. 
 
 But she began no set form of prayer. She 
 would merely have said that she was "jest a 
 thinkin'." She leaned her elbows on the 
 chair and covered her face with her hands. 
 
 The intensity of the feeling which pos- 
 sessed her recalled her younger years, those 
 days when she " took things kind of hard," 
 and suffered and enjoyed a great deal. But 
 those days were a great ways off ; they 
 seemed to have been lived by some one
 
 DALLY 8 I 
 
 else. Since then there was a vast stretch 
 of time, a kind of dead level along which 
 she had trudged calmly. She had liked and 
 respected 'Bijah, and they had almost al- 
 ways " seen alike," and were very comfort- 
 able together. She used to dream of love, 
 but she had never felt for her husband that 
 thing about which she had dreamed. Still, 
 common-sense told her it was, as everybody 
 had said, "a real suitable marriage." 
 
 As she leaned on her chair in her spare 
 chamber this August day she knew she had 
 never loved any creature in her life as she 
 loved the child whom Mrs. Lander had sent 
 from the Southern mountains. She had 
 known this before, but it came over her now 
 with greater and more overwhelming force. 
 The strong, passionate cry of her heart was 
 that Dally might be good and happy. 
 Good she must be, even if she missed of hap- 
 piness. But how to " bring her up?" What 
 strange ideas she had ! Even though she 
 knew about " preachers " and " preachin's," 
 and could sing hymns about " thur Lamb," 
 and " thur cross on Calvary," what a heathen 
 she was ! If she were misunderstood and 
 treated in the wrong way now, Mrs. Jacobs 
 6
 
 82 DALLY 
 
 felt that the child might go to some unspeak- 
 able bad. She shuddered as she thought of 
 such a possibility. There was that in this 
 Yankee woman's soul that made her com- 
 prehend the untutored sweetness and opu- 
 lence, the indescribable charm of simplicity 
 and richness, in the girl's nature. She com- 
 prehended in a way, but she stood at a loss 
 before it. There was nothing commonplace 
 about Dally. If she glanced at you, if she 
 did but say " Howdy, ma'am," it was with 
 a curl of eyelash, a tone of voice, that were 
 different from anything ever known before 
 in Ransom ; and very different indeed from 
 what is usual on " White Crow Mounting " 
 and its vicinity. Ole Tid had not known 
 it, nor Barker, nor any of those semi-human 
 beings who dwell among those magnificent 
 mountains. 
 
 But Mrs. Lander knew it the instant her 
 somewhat languid but very appreciative eyes 
 had fallen on the dirty, ragged creature who 
 handed up her fallen glove to her as she 
 sat on horseback by the bank of a rushing 
 branch at the foot of White Crow. She 
 took the girl, but she did not care anything 
 about the brother, who was only a pasty,
 
 DALLY 83 
 
 stolid-looking poor white. After she had 
 taken the girl she did not quite wish to 
 burden herself with the actual care of her. 
 
 She remembered Mrs. Jacobs, with whom 
 she sometimes spent a week or two in the 
 summer. Just the place for the child. Mrs. 
 Lander would contribute plenty of money 
 when it was necessary, and she would like 
 to see what that squalid creature with such 
 eyes and such a fascinating suggestiveness 
 would become after a few years in civilized 
 life. Life was civilized in this New England 
 village, but, of course, in this lady's eyes it 
 was not precisely enlightened. Mrs. Lander 
 thought of this waif often enough to send 
 an occasional check, which Mrs. Jacobs scru- 
 pulously deposited in the bank for Daily's 
 future use. 
 
 The kneeling woman tried to recall her 
 wandering thoughts to the particular sub- 
 ject in hand now the imprisonment of 
 Mrs. Winslow. It would not do to pass 
 that over. But the difficulties of the matter 
 were great. 
 
 She had not closed the door behind her. 
 It was open about a foot, and in this aper- 
 ture there now appeared the figure of Dally.
 
 84 DALLY 
 
 She did not make the least noise. Under 
 her left arm was the puppy, and his attitude 
 showed that this position was a very famil- 
 iar and acceptable one to him. He reached 
 out his sleek head and snuffed a little, then 
 "turned and gave one soft lick on the cheek 
 nearest him.. He was the only one that 
 seemed to consider that things were all right. 
 
 Dally looked depressed and bewildered. 
 She hesitated. Finally she crossed the carpet 
 softly, stood behind Mrs. Jacobs a moment, 
 then stepped up and knelt down with great 
 gentleness beside her, put one hand up over 
 her own face, while she kept the dog in place 
 with the other. 
 
 The widow stirred and sighed as she felt 
 the little form pressed up against her. She 
 was no nearer a decision than when she came 
 up-stairs. She could not help a feeling of 
 pleasure and relief, however, because Dally 
 had come. The latter remained motionless 
 in her position until Mrs. Jacobs put an arm 
 around her, then she asked without taking 
 her hand from her face : 
 
 " War yo' prayin', aunty ?" 
 
 " I was tryin' to," was the answer. 
 
 '"Bout me?"
 
 DALLY 85 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Silence, during which the two kept their 
 positions, and the puppy slipped on to the 
 floor and went to sleep. 
 
 Dally spoke again, but still with her head 
 bent on her hand. 
 
 " Ole Tid useter 'low as prayin' war nigh 
 onter bein' as no 'count as cussin', she did." 
 
 The arm about Dally involuntarily tight- 
 ened, but Mrs. Jacobs did not reply. Pres- 
 ently Dally said, as if to herself: "But ole 
 Tid war horrid, anyway." Then she made 
 this remark : 
 
 " I reckon 'tis better ter pray nor 'tis to 
 cuss." 
 
 " Don't talk about cussin'," said Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 A very long silence now came, during 
 which the widow groped in vain for the right 
 course to take. She was keenly aware of 
 the dearness of the child within her arm, 
 and she could not be keenly aware of any- 
 thing else in any available manner. She felt 
 that she was drifting into a very bad way. 
 It almost seemed to her as if she were in 
 danger of becoming shiftless. She recalled 
 how very severe she had always been in her
 
 86 DALLY 
 
 judgment of mothers who did not sufficient- 
 ly discipline their children. She had always 
 said it was all nonsense to spare the rod. 
 She had asserted that when you didn't know 
 what to do with a child, then was the time to 
 give it a taste of the birch. Her whole be- 
 ing shrank with horror from the thought of 
 whipping Dally. Doubtless, though, she had 
 often and cruelly been beaten. 
 
 Hardly knowing that she spoke, she ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " I wish you hadn't shet up Mis' Wins- 
 low." 
 
 Now Dally raised her head from her hand, 
 that she might look at her friend. 
 
 " I thought you didn't lurv her," she said. 
 
 "I don't." 
 
 "Then, why do you care?" 
 
 "Can't you understand that you mustn't 
 do wrong to a person, even if you don't love 
 'em?" vehemently asked Mrs. Jacobs, almost 
 beside herself as to the best course to pursue. 
 
 " She did wrong ter me. She wanted ter 
 take my dog from me," said Dally. 
 
 " But we've got to see that we don't do 
 wrong ourselves," was the helpless answer. 
 
 The girl did not speak. She was leaning
 
 DALLY 87 
 
 against Mrs. Jacobs and seemed to be think- 
 ing deeply. Apparently, as a result of that 
 thinking, she announced at last that she 
 " thought it done that ole 'oman good ter 
 be shut urp in thur suller er spell. An' me 
 an' Marietta had thur best kind of er time 
 on thur sycamore." 
 
 Her face lighted as she said these last 
 words. She always called the bicycle a syca- 
 more, and could not seem to remember the 
 correct name. She was patiently corrected 
 for the twentieth time. 
 
 The sound of wheels was now heard in the 
 yard, and presently a man's voice crying, 
 "Whoa! stand still, can't ye?" 
 
 The two in the spare chamber rose hur- 
 riedly from their knees. Heavy boots were 
 walking on the oilcloth of the kitchen, and 
 somebody said : 
 
 " Where be ye all ?" 
 
 " It's Mr. Winslow," said Mrs. Jacobs. 
 She pushed the child gently back into the 
 room and told her to stay there till she was 
 called. Then she went slowly down -stairs 
 and greeted her visitor rather solemnly. 
 
 The gentleman said "he guessed it wa'n't 
 wuth while to se' down ; he couldn't stop er
 
 DALLY 
 
 minute. He thought he'd run in, bein's he 
 was goin' by." 
 
 Having said this, he stood near the door 
 and seemed to wish he had not run in, even 
 though he was going by. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs asked him if he had had good 
 luck with his medder hay. She inquired if 
 his medders were all growin' up with young 
 willers as hers were. He did not seem in- 
 terested in "young willers," and his hostess 
 asked him no more questions, but sat uneasily 
 waiting, till Mr. Winslow abruptly burst forth 
 with these words : 
 
 " I'm mighty afraid that when she does 
 find out who done it she'll make a pretty bad 
 fuss." 
 
 " Don't she know who done it ?" anxiously 
 questioned Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 " Not yet. When I got home last night 
 I found her locked in the suller. She couldn't 
 git out till I let her out." 
 
 In spite of the best resolves in the world, 
 a smile crept round Peter Winslow's mouth 
 as he thus spoke. Mrs. Jacobs saw this 
 smile, and he knew she saw it. She raised 
 her apron and deliberately wiped her lips. 
 
 " I thought I'd tell ye, so ye might be
 
 DALLY 89 
 
 kinder prepared when it does come," went 
 on the kind voice that Marietta Winslow 
 found so comforting. " I'm reckonin' on its 
 bein' kinder tough. You c'n be thinkin' 
 what ye oughter do 'bout it. Marietta told 
 me the whole story. Of course it was very 
 wrong ter turn that suller-door button." 
 
 He shook his head with deep seriousness. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs asserted that it was very wrong. 
 Mr. Winslow turned towards the door. 
 
 " 'Tain't necessary ter say I said nothin' on 
 the subject," he remarked, with a great at- 
 tempt at speaking in a casual manner. " It 
 won't take her long ter find out. She's study- 
 in' on it every minute. She won't rest till 
 she's got to the root of it. P'raps you'll have 
 to punish Dally. I guess I'll be goin'. You 
 know 'tain't the first thing Daily's done to 
 her. Save some of that sweet corn for seed, 
 won't ye, Mis' Jacobs ? I ain't seen none like 
 it in town." 
 
 He pointed his whip at the patch of sweet 
 corn near the house. Then he climbed into 
 his cart ; the horses started ; the wind bulged 
 out his shirt in the way so annoying to his 
 wife and so worthy, in her opinion, of the in- 
 terference of the anerel Gabriel.
 
 go DALLY 
 
 Up-stairs the hound puppy gave two or 
 three very young-sounding barks. Then the 
 household settled down into waiting until 
 Mrs. Jacobs could decide what to do in view 
 of Daily's misdeed, and until Mrs. Winslow 
 should find out " who done it."
 
 VIII 
 
 DALLY CONFESSES 
 
 VEHICLE which was commonly 
 mentioned as the " deepo' wagon " 
 was coming along slowly on the 
 road which leads from the Centre. It always 
 moved slowly, no matter what the reason 
 might be why one would think it should 
 hasten. Mr. Dodson was never affected by 
 any remonstrance of impatient passengers. 
 He knew they must be taken in his wagon, 
 or they must walk. So he used to expecto- 
 rate over the right-hand front wheel with 
 great enjoyment when any one fumed and 
 fretted because the horse barely trotted 
 down a hill, and walked on the level and up 
 every ascent. 
 
 Sometimes, if a furious man, unused to the 
 ways of the town, went so far as to swear, Mr. 
 Dodson would look back at him over his 
 slouching shoulder and tell him that " folks 
 that wanted to go fast better stick to the 
 steam-cars, and not come out to Ransom."
 
 g2 DALLY 
 
 Then the man who had sworn would swear 
 once more ; this time that nothing should 
 ever bring him to Ransom again. Where- 
 upon silence would fall, and the horse would 
 seem to go more moderately than before, and 
 its driver would look perfectly satisfied as he 
 leaned on his knees and placidly waved kis 
 whip over the back of his steed. 
 
 This morning the depot wagon was not 
 conveying a man, but a woman, who sat on 
 the back seat, and looked over the fields and 
 hills as one looks who loves them, but who 
 does not live among them. 
 
 Sometimes her glance would come back to 
 Mr. Dodson, and would dwell amusedly upon 
 him. She believed that, if she could come 
 here a hundred years from now, she would 
 find that same depot wagon, pulled by the 
 same roan horse, who had " knock-knees," and 
 whose ears flopped so very wide apart. And 
 this horse would be driven by the same driver, 
 who would distribute a great deal of tobacco- 
 stained saliva along "the highway. She had 
 known Mr. Dodson ever since she could re- 
 member anything. He had looked precisely 
 as he did now. He had always embraced ev- 
 ery occasion on which to say that he " didn't
 
 DALLY 93 
 
 believe women oughter be a gittin' outer 
 their places, 'n' meddlin' with public mat- 
 ters." He didn't think women were meant 
 by the Almighty to know anything about 
 " public matters." This last phrase was 
 very popular with him ; it seemed to mean 
 a great deal, and to give him a vast amount 
 of comfort every time he used it. If he had 
 been made to define those words, he would 
 probably have said that public matters were 
 what women ought not to know. If any- 
 body wanted more definition than that, that 
 person must be very exacting. 
 
 Mr. Dodson invariably wore an old silk 
 hat. As he was never seen with a new one, 
 it was a subject of conjecture in the town as 
 to where he found so many hats in exactly 
 the same stage of dilapidation. 
 
 Mrs. Lander's eyes returned from a long 
 gaze at the pine woods which crowned a hill 
 by which they were driving. She looked at 
 the silk hat before her, and she remembered 
 a number of surmises concerning it which she 
 had heard fifteen years ago at a sewing-circle 
 at old Cap'n Jones's. She did not know why, 
 but at the vivid remembrance of that sewing- 
 circle, when she had been young, and had not
 
 94 
 
 DALLY 
 
 known anything beyond Ransom, her pulses 
 suddenly stirred. She did not seem quite 
 so indolent as she bent forward and inquired 
 if there was any news in town. 
 
 Mr. Dodson meditated a moment ; then 
 he said that " the garden sass had all ben 
 dried up. It hadn't ben no such dry time 
 for thirteen years." 
 
 Mrs. Lander expressed her sorrow at this. 
 She said she was always " fond of garden 
 sass." She said " fond " because she knew 
 that was the correct word to use here when 
 speaking of a preference for a certain kind 
 of food. One might be fond of one's lover; 
 also of cucumbers and string-beans. 
 
 Mr. Dodson nodded his head. He had a 
 sense of relief that his passenger did not 
 seem stuck-up. He frequently told his inti- 
 mate acquaintances that " nothin' in the 
 world made him so mad as to see somebody 
 that was stuck-up." 
 
 Presently Mrs. Lander inquired if the dry- 
 ing up of the garden sass had been all that 
 had happened since last year. 
 
 " Mr. Alden has ben havin' kind of er re- 
 vivil in his church," was the reply. " There's 
 ben some awakenin' 'mong unbelievers. I'm
 
 DALLY 
 
 95 
 
 in hopes the revivil will extend to Mr. Star- 
 key's charge." 
 
 Mr. Dodson was a Baptist, and his pastor's 
 name was Starkey. 
 
 Mrs. Lander did not seem greatly interest- 
 ed in this news ; but she made a little mur- 
 mur of assent, and would have leaned back 
 in her seat, only that no one could ever lean 
 or do anything but sit bolt upright in the 
 deepo' wagon. 
 
 Mr. Dodson shook the lines on the roan's 
 back, and the roan walked even more delib- 
 erately. He coughed and spat, and then said 
 that the " Widder 'Bijah was one of the pil- 
 lars of Mr. Alden's church, 'n' he thought it 
 would look well in her to draw the reins er 
 little tighter onter that Caroliny gal she'd 
 got there with her." 
 
 At these words Mrs. Lander's somewhat 
 languid eyes took on a look of interest. 
 
 " How does the little girl behave?" she 
 asked. 
 
 The driver threw up his head and opened 
 his mouth very wide. He made no sound, 
 and there was no mirth visible on his face. 
 Still, from previous observation, Mrs. Lander 
 knew that he was laughing. She waited un- 
 til his hilarity should subside.
 
 96 DALLY 
 
 " She behaves like the old Harry," he said. 
 "Wuss'n that, the widder's jest wrapped up 
 in her. I'd know what's goin' ter become of 
 the Widder 'Bijah 'long of that gal." 
 
 He paused a moment, looking down the 
 road ; then he added, " There they be now." 
 
 Mrs. Lander looked also. She saw Mrs. 
 Jacobs's portly figure, crowned by a ging- 
 ham sun-bonnet. She detected immediately 
 that there was an air of importance and de- 
 termination in the widow's walk. 
 
 Holding her hand was a slim form in a 
 pale-blue gown, with a white straw hat on 
 its head. This second figure moved with a 
 spring and a lightness which made her com- 
 panion's movements seem more heavy than 
 usual. 
 
 The two gazed at the wagon, knowing that 
 some one must have come from the " Farn- 
 ham deepo'," for this was out of Mr. Dod- 
 son's regular route. 
 
 " I'll get out here," said Mrs. Lander. 
 " Take my luggage to Mrs. Jacobs's." 
 
 " But she ain't to home," remonstrated 
 Mr. Dodson. 
 
 The lady did not think it worth while to 
 reply. She was used to being obeyed. She
 
 DALLY 9 7 
 
 put some money in the man's hand, and 
 climbed down unaided to the ground. She 
 went forward to meet the two, and Mr. Dod- 
 son, instead of going on, waited to watch the 
 meeting. 
 
 " My goodness !" the widow had said, " if 
 there ain't Mis' Lander!" and she had hast- 
 ened forward. 
 
 Dally had not said anything. She had 
 seen that graceful and indolent woman at 
 the foot of " White Crow Mounting." It 
 was she who had taken her away from Ole 
 Tid and sent her here. In Daily's mind, 
 Mrs. Lander had always been something 
 more than a mere woman. Could a com- 
 mon human being have hands so soft and 
 white and w r ith such a caressing touch ? Did 
 those wonderfully fitting clothes grow on 
 her, or what made them so different from 
 anything she had ever seen before ? There 
 was no one in Ransom like her. She was 
 almost as unlike people in Ransom as she 
 was unlike those near Ole Tid's. 
 
 Mrs. Lander, whose lingering glance ob- 
 served everything, observed that Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs had the air of a person who is on her 
 way to have a tooth pulled, and who is grate- 
 7
 
 gS DALLY 
 
 ful for an interruption. She also saw that 
 Dally was pale, as if she were pale from de- 
 termination. 
 
 Mrs. Lander shook hands with Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs. Then she turned to Dally, and put a 
 hand on each shoulder, looking down for a 
 moment into the child's upturned eyes. Af- 
 ter that gaze Dally felt herself enveloped in 
 two warm arms ; she inhaled a faint odor of 
 violets ; a gentle and yet penetrating kiss 
 was pressed on her lips. 
 
 When she emerged from that embrace she 
 was paler than before ; but this time her pal- 
 lor was from happiness. 
 
 She suddenly forgot the errand upon which 
 she and Mrs. Jacobs were going. 
 
 But Mrs. Jacobs could not forget it. She 
 began immediately to brace herself again. 
 
 "Now, Mis' Lander, you mustn't hender 
 me," she said. " I'll give you the key, 'n' 
 you go right in. We sh'll be there 'fore 
 long." 
 
 Mrs. Lander saw Daily's face appear to 
 become stiff with resolution again. 
 
 "Where are you going? To a dentist?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 " I wish I was !" exclaimed the widow.
 
 DALLY 99 
 
 " I'd ruther have out every tooth I've got 
 left in my head. We've got to go to Mis' 
 Winslow's. Daily's ben naughty to her, 'n' 
 she's promised me to confess 'n' arsk her for- 
 giveness. She knows I'd ruther do it my- 
 self, only I ain't the guilty one, so I can't." 
 
 Dally grasped the speaker's hand with both 
 her own. 
 
 Mrs. Lander smiled. Both Mrs. Jacobs 
 and her charge wondered how any one could 
 smile at such a time ; but the very fact that 
 any one could do so was in itself cheering to 
 Dally. 
 
 "What has Dally done?" was the next in- 
 quiry. 
 
 " She shet Mis' Winslow into her suller." 
 
 Mrs. Lander smiled again. She said that 
 no doubt Mr. Winslow would be grateful if 
 his wife could be shut in the cellar all the 
 time. 
 
 " Now don't you go 'n' talk that way," re- 
 monstrated the widow, "jest when I've made 
 Dally see she oughter confess. Mis' Wins- 
 low bein' what she is don't change the child's 
 fault any." 
 
 " It gives some provocation, though." 
 
 Mrs. Lander proposed that she should go
 
 100 DALLY 
 
 with Dally to Mrs. Winslow's, and that Mrs. 
 Jacobs should turn and go home. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs wanted so much to accept the 
 proposition that she felt it must be wrong. 
 She insisted upon going, and Mrs. Lander 
 insisted upon accompanying them. 
 
 Daily's spirit revived somewhat as they 
 walked along. Nothing short of the great 
 love she bore "aunty" could have sufficed 
 to make her promise as she had done. In 
 all her life there had never come to her any- 
 thing so hard as this. She told herself over 
 and over that she would rather die. It is 
 astonishing how easy a matter death seems 
 to early youth. Mrs. Jacobs saw how dread- 
 ful what she asked of Dally was, but, as she 
 said, she " couldn't see her way no other 
 how." It almost seemed as if she would be 
 neglecting a corner-stone of the child's im- 
 mortal education if she should let this pass, 
 and she counted on making a move in the 
 matter before Mrs. Winslow had made any 
 discovery. And had not Peter Winslow 
 warned her that his wife "wa'n't goin' to 
 leave no stone unturned?" 
 
 The Winslow residence presented an en- 
 tirely deserted appearance. But then, it al-
 
 DALLY 101 
 
 ways looked so. Every blind was shut tow- 
 ards the road. The blinds on the front door 
 seemed to say that nothing less than a funeral 
 could open them. The walk to that door was 
 paved with smooth round beach stones, brown 
 and white, arranged in alternate rows. No 
 spear of grass ever dared to grow between 
 those stones. The three walked over this 
 way and round to the right, to a less elab- 
 orate gravel path. As they reached the back 
 porch they came upon Mrs. Winslow putting 
 clothes to soak in a large tub, and Marietta 
 putting clothes to soak in a small tub. 
 
 When Marietta saw that Dally was with 
 the two women, she first seemed much fright- 
 ened ; then she recovered sufficiently to hold 
 up a pillow-case in such a way that it shield- 
 ed her face while she opened her mouth and 
 eyes to their fullest extent in warning panto- 
 mime to Dally. Dally saw this pantomime, 
 and at any other time would have replied to 
 it in kind, but now her mind was so filled with 
 the dreadful duty before her that she only 
 stared at Marietta and made no response. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow hurriedly wiped her hands 
 on a table-cloth, which had not yet been 
 placed in the tub. Mrs. Jacobs was secret-
 
 102 DALLY 
 
 ly glad that their hostess appeared some- 
 what " flustered " by the presence of the 
 lady from New York. 
 
 " I declare," she said, " I wa'n't expectin' 
 of ye, Mis' Lander." 
 
 ' " Naturally," was the reply, " you couldn't 
 be expecting of me, Mrs. Winslow ; I only 
 decided at the latest moment last night to 
 take the Fall River boat. It was even too 
 late to telegraph to you, if one could get a 
 telegram in Ransom, which fortunately one 
 can't, not until a day or two after it is sent." 
 
 For some reason this reply, given very 
 calmly and sweetly, seemed to confuse Mrs. 
 Winslow still more. She put her hands in 
 the soapy water, and was obliged to wipe 
 them again. In consequence of thus forget- 
 ting herself, she looked at Marietta viciously, 
 and told her sharply that " she ought to be 
 whipped for not running without being told 
 to see if the tea-kittle boiled." 
 
 Marietta rolled her sudsy hands in her 
 apron, and departed for the kitchen. But 
 at the door, which was behind her mother's 
 back, this child found the opportunity to turn 
 again to Dally and to indulge once more 
 in the extreme opening of mouth and eyes.
 
 DALLY 
 
 IO3 
 
 This time, comforted by Mrs. Winslow's ev- 
 ident discomfiture, Dally smiled broadly, and 
 was immediately asked by Marietta's mother 
 what she found to laugh at. Dally promptly 
 responded, " Nothin'," and Marietta disap- 
 peared. 
 
 As the two women continued to stand on 
 the stoop, Mrs. Winslow was obliged to tell 
 them to "come right in 'n' se' down." 
 
 Mrs. Lander thanked her effusively. The 
 next moment all three were sitting in the 
 semi-dark parlor, and Dally was standing by 
 Mrs. Jacobs and looking at a " mourning- 
 piece " hung on the wall opposite, in the 
 only light place in the room. This piece 
 was a representation of a section of some 
 very ornate graveyard. A tall and much- 
 carved marble monument, with a weeping an- 
 gel on the top of it, was in the middle dis- 
 tance. In front was a group composed of a 
 large man in evening dress, holding his hat 
 in his hand ; a tall lady, not in evening dress, 
 but in a black gown completely swathed about 
 with a crape veil ; a youth in Eton jacket and 
 hat, with his hand just raised as if to remove 
 that hat ; a small girl in more veil, and hav- 
 ing in her arms a doll that had a face so very
 
 104 
 
 DALLY 
 
 cheerful that one might have wished it had 
 not been brought into this cemetery. On 
 an open space left for the purpose on the 
 monument were the lines : " Sacred to the 
 memory of " Dally could not read any 
 further ; indeed, she found some difficulty 
 in spelling that much out. All the people 
 assembled in the picture, with the one excep- 
 tion of the doll, seemed to be reading the in- 
 scription with the utmost unction. 
 
 Thus gazing, Dally heard Mrs. Lander's 
 melodious voice saying, with a great deal of 
 sympathy : 
 
 " I am sorry to hear, Mrs. Winslow, that 
 you have been shut up in your cellar. Did 
 you suffer much inconvenience?" 
 
 A purple flush rose slowly to Mrs. Wins- 
 low's face. She forgot herself, and spoke 
 violently: 
 
 " How'd that git out ? Peter's ben blab- 
 bin', I s'pose. No, 'twa'n't nothin'. I didn't 
 mind it none. 'Tain't worth speakin' about." 
 
 Dally had grown very rigid. She stood 
 off a little from Mrs. Jacobs, but her small 
 fingers clung convulsively to the widow's 
 hand. She was perfectly white. She did 
 not know how the dusky eyes of Mrs. Lan-
 
 DALLY 105 
 
 der were on her. All she knew besides the 
 task before her was that the hand to which 
 she clung held her firmly and encouragingly. 
 She stood very straight, and looked intent- 
 ly at a large moth-patch on the left side of 
 Mrs. Winslow's forehead. 
 
 " I turned thur button," she said, in a high 
 voice. " I done it, an' I'm sorry, 'cause 
 aunty's felt so 'bout it. I " here she 
 paused, and put one hand to her throat 
 with a movement which made Mrs. Lander 
 half rise from her seat as if to go to her. 
 
 With her hand at that slender white throat, 
 the child's eyes turned pathetically to those 
 of Mrs. Jacobs. Then Dally looked again 
 at that moth-patch, and said, in a still higher 
 voice : 
 
 " I arsk yo' ter fergive me, Mis' Winslow." 
 
 As the last word left her lips Dally flung 
 herself like a tempest upon Mrs. Jacobs, who 
 caught and held her fast.
 
 IX 
 
 MRS. WINSLOW OFFERS A FEW PORTERS 
 
 QUIVER of rage went over Mrs. 
 
 Winslow's big body when she heard 
 
 Daily's confession. 
 " I was sure on't !" she cried out, and it 
 seemed as if she were going to reach forth a 
 hand and clutch the child. 
 
 In an interval of absolute silence which 
 followed there was heard a scratching at the 
 door, accompanied by a whine. Then the 
 door was opened by an invisible hand, sup- 
 posed to belong to Marietta, and Daily's 
 hound puppy came creeping deprecatingly 
 in and crouched close to the feet of his mis- 
 tress. It was a notable fact that all dogs, 
 young or old, wore an air of deprecation 
 when in the presence of Mrs. Winslow. They 
 were apparently begging her to overlook the 
 unfortunate fact that they were alive in the 
 same world with her. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs, with her arms about Dally,
 
 DALLY 107 
 
 was gazing at her hostess, and saying to her- 
 self that " that pesky woman was really worse 
 than she had thought she was." It passed 
 her comprehension that any human being 
 could so receive an agonized confession from 
 a little girl. 
 
 Mrs. Lander rose. Her cool, persistent 
 gaze covered that disagreeable, perturbed 
 face something as the muzzle of a revolver 
 might have covered it. Mrs. Winslow be- 
 gan to writhe visibly. It had been a long 
 time since Mrs. Lander had been so angry; 
 and when this lady was angry somebody 
 usually suffered. 
 
 The widder 'Bijah glanced at her and felt 
 her spirits rise perceptibly. 
 
 " I guess she'll fix her," she thought, " 'n' 
 I don't care how much she fixes her. The 
 more the better." 
 
 But Providence had arranged that the fix- 
 ing of Mrs. Winslow, in this instance, should 
 not be entirely effected by Mrs. Lander, al- 
 though she began the process. 
 
 " Is there a revival meeting at Mr. Alden's 
 church to-night?" inquired Mrs. Lander, 
 with apparent irrelevance. Her voice was 
 so clear, and her utterance so distinct, that
 
 103 DALLY 
 
 Mrs. Winslow somehow felt a great deal 
 worse. She continued to writhe and to wish 
 impotently that she had made believe forgive 
 Dally immediately. The very fact that she 
 could not guess what was going to be said 
 next added to her unhappiness. 
 
 " I will go down to the prayer-meeting," 
 said Mrs. Lander, with every appearance of 
 a calm statement of intentions, " and I will 
 make a prayer in which I will tell God, be- 
 fore the people, how cruelly unchristian you 
 have been in not pardoning a poor child who 
 has confessed her fault to you. And you 
 just told me that your being in the cellar 
 was nothing. I shall pray to God, before 
 the people, to give you a better heart. I 
 shall see that God and the people under- 
 stand the case fully. And I shall do it this 
 evening." 
 
 Before Mrs. Lander had finished speaking 
 Dally had ceased sobbing, and her attitude, 
 though her face was hidden, showed that she 
 was listening intently. Here was some one 
 who could do what she pleased. The girl 
 almost gasped with the intensity of the emo- 
 tions she had undergone, and with the ad- 
 miration just added to them.
 
 DALLY 
 
 I0 9 
 
 " Lowizy !" exclaimed the widow under her 
 breath, in a mixture of horror and gratitude. 
 
 Mrs. Lander's name was Louisa, and some- 
 times in moments of excitement Mrs. Jacobs 
 permitted herself to pronounce the name by 
 which the lady had been called in early youth, 
 when she had lived in Ransom, before she 
 married the rich New York man. 
 
 Lowizy turned smilingly towards her friend. 
 
 " Surely, Mrs. Jacobs," she said, " you do 
 not object to my praying for a wicked wom- 
 an." 
 
 Mrs. Winslow, one of the prominent mem- 
 bers of the Rev. Mr. Alden's flock, a fervent 
 pleader with the Lord in times of revival, 
 was huddled in her chair, a prey to more and 
 stronger disagreeable feelings than she had 
 known for a great many years. 
 
 It was very hard to face the conviction 
 that Mrs. Lander would do just what she 
 said ; and that she would do it Mrs. Wins- 
 low was convinced. 
 
 But this woman was not endowed with 
 eyes like a pig without having a pig's obsti- 
 nacy. She held back from giving in words 
 forgiveness to Dally. She sat silent and 
 looked sullenly at the group before her.
 
 1 10 DALLY 
 
 Mrs. Lander was not going to wait. She 
 put her hand on Daily's shoulder, which 
 pressed against Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 "Come," she said, "let us go." As they 
 all turned towards the door, impetuous foot- 
 steps sounded in the kitchen, and imme- 
 diately the figure of a tall boy appeared. 
 Marietta was in the near background, and 
 had the appearance of clinging to the boy's 
 coat-tails. 
 
 Is it too much to -hope that the reader 
 may have remembered that these chronicles 
 have mentioned that Bill Winslow meant to 
 have given that puppy to Dally, but that it 
 was Mr. Winslow who actually did so ? 
 
 This youth had been visiting his grand- 
 father over in " Snapit," a certain part of 
 Ransom, during the vacation, and had thus 
 been kept more out of sight than a mascu- 
 line person of his height and years (seventeen 
 and a half) ought to be. 
 
 He returned at this moment, almost as 
 opportunely as if this had been a novel and 
 he the hero of it. 
 
 Marietta must have given him a hasty and 
 highly colored sketch of what was going on 
 in the parlor, for she had not been many feet
 
 DALLY III 
 
 away from the unlatched door all the time, 
 and she now stood staring, oblivious that 
 there was a great deal of suds on the front 
 of her large " tire," which suds she would 
 eventually have to answer for. 
 
 It is an obvious fact that this generation 
 of young people is not remarkable for re- 
 spect and veneration towards their elders. 
 And perhaps she that was a Jones had no 
 reason to expect either respect or venera- 
 tion from her own son. Certainly she did 
 not receive it, and this youth was the only 
 person in the world who tyrannized over this 
 woman. Since the time of his birth Bill 
 Winslow had ruled his mother. If he did 
 not always rule her with a rod of iron, it was 
 from no wisdom on her part, but from some 
 leaven of humanity in the boy. 
 
 He was a big fellow of his age ; he had his 
 father's face, with a hint of more refinement 
 and individuality of courage in it. Peter had 
 been cowed for too many years not to have 
 lost something, both in appearance and char- 
 acter. 
 
 Bill stood a moment in the doorway, while 
 his swift, glancing young eyes took in the 
 scene. He snatched off his hat and fluner
 
 112 DALLY 
 
 it behind him. He looked and seemed ex- 
 cited. 
 
 " What kind of a row is it you are hav- 
 ing?" he asked, in his gruff, immature voice. 
 " Mother, have you been acting like a fool ? 
 You act like a fool half the time. You'd 
 better forgive Dally double quick. What 
 more do you want than that she should con- 
 fess and ask your forgiveness ? Come, now ; 
 hurry up, mother!" 
 
 " I was shet up," whined Mrs. Winslow. 
 "Oh, William, you don't know nothin' 
 'bout it." 
 
 "Yes I do, too Met told me. Hurry up, 
 I say." 
 
 Mrs. Lander looked at the boy and smiled 
 upon him. It was a distinct pleasure to be 
 even looked at by Mrs. Lander, if she were 
 not angry ; but if she gave you a smile in ad- 
 dition to the glance, the pleasure became a 
 happiness. 
 
 Bill, receiving this favor from the lady, 
 wondered yet more what his mother was 
 made of that she could hold out thus. 
 
 But she had capitulated. " I forgive you, 
 Dally," she said, in a reluctant tone. 
 
 " All right," said Bill. " Now come along,
 
 DALLY 113 
 
 Dally. How your dog has grown ! It was 
 the best of the lot, and that's why I wanted 
 you to have it." 
 
 Ke lifted the spotted puppy in his arms 
 and looked at Dally, who had withdrawn her- 
 self from Mrs. Jacobs, and who was gazing 
 at Mrs. Winslow. Her young heart was 
 swollen with a dreadful sense of injustice 
 and a still more dreadful feeling of hate. She 
 thought she should die with the tenseness of 
 her emotion. She had scarcely heard the 
 boy's words. He repeated them, and added 
 that he had brought a gray squirrel from 
 Snapit. 
 
 Mrs. Lander touched his arm. 
 
 " Don't talk to her," she whispered. " Do 
 you not see she is as spent as if she had been 
 fighting for her life ? Do you think it was 
 easy for her ito ask pardon ? It has almost 
 killed her. I believe Mrs. Jacobs was wrong." 
 
 While she was speaking thus, the widow 
 led Dally towards the door. As the girl 
 passed the boy she held out her arms, saying : 
 
 " I want my dog." And Bill gave it silently 
 to her. He followed her and said in a low 
 voice, and with a good deal of feeling: 
 
 " Don't you worry, Dally. It was too bad.
 
 114 DALLY 
 
 I'll tend to mother. She sha'n't plague 
 you." 
 
 Something in his manner now made Dally 
 look up at him. He was startled by what 
 he saw in her eyes. It helped to give him 
 more of an idea of what she had suffered, at 
 the same time that he was conscious of their 
 wild beauty. He recalled, with a shiver of 
 inexplicable pain, times when he had snared 
 free creatures and they had looked at him in 
 their suffering. 
 
 "Yo've ben real good ter me," said Dally. 
 
 She walked out of the house with Mrs. 
 Jacobs and Mrs. Lander. William Winslow 
 stood a moment gazing after them, his hands 
 thrust far down in his pockets and his eyes 
 much dilated. Then he turned into the 
 house and gave his mother a very bad quar- 
 ter of an hour. 
 
 Evidently this quarter of an hour was a 
 needed discipline to Mrs. W T inslow. 
 
 The next afternoon, while the widow and 
 Mrs. Lander and Dally were sitting at leisure 
 in the front room, an exclamation from Dally 
 made the others look from the windows. 
 
 They saw the ample figure of Mrs. Wins- 
 low slowly approaching. The two women
 
 DALLY 115 
 
 looked at each other, while the girl fled 
 away. 
 
 " I guess she's goin' ter overlook it," said 
 the widder 'Bijah. 
 
 "I guess she is," said Mrs. Lander. "I 
 must say," she went on, " that she has a fine 
 son. It is wonderful." 
 
 " I s'pose he takes back somevvheres," re- 
 marked Mrs. Jacobs. " There's a good deal 
 more to him than there is to his father, 'n' 
 Peter'd ben somethin' more with a dif runt 
 wife. I declare, I hate the sight of her; 'n' 
 I d' know when Dally'll git over it." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Winslow had reached the 
 step. She came in with tolerable self-posses- 
 sion. She had a basket of apples on one arm. 
 
 " I tho't I'd run over;" she said, after the 
 greetings had passed. " I knew you hadn't 
 no porters this season, 'n' mine are uncom- 
 mon fine. There ain't nothin' like um for 
 slumps. We eat a good many slumps to our 
 house." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs emptied the porters into a tin 
 pan, and thanked the giver, of them. She 
 acknowledged that, for the delicacy men- 
 tioned by Mrs. Winslow, " there wa'n't noth- 
 in' to be compared to porters."
 
 Hd DALLY 
 
 Mrs. Winslow talked some of the crops ; 
 she mentioned how young Wistar seemed 
 " to be wastin* away, 'thout nothin' you could 
 put yer finger on bein' the matter of him." 
 She said " they'd ben havin' another quarrel 
 in the orthodox choir, 'n' Jane Rand had said 
 she'd never set in them seats agin the long- 
 est day she lived." 
 
 To this Mrs. Jacobs remarked, dryly, that 
 "she wa'n't goin' to worry about that, for 
 Jane Rand had said so a good many times 
 before." 
 
 From the choir Mrs. Winslow touched on 
 what she called the " revivil meetin's" in her 
 church. She said " they had been greatly 
 blessed so fur." The evangelist they had 
 engaged had proved even more powerful 
 than report had told. 
 
 She secretly wished that Mrs. Lander were 
 not present ; but that lady retained her seat, 
 and was so pleasant that Mrs. Winslow could 
 hardly believe she had been the one who had 
 spoken as she had done the day before. The 
 New York lady was like that girl who had 
 the curl on her forehead, in that when she 
 was good she was very, very good. 
 
 Finally the visitor rose. She looked some-
 
 DALLY 117 
 
 what embarrassed as she remarked that " she 
 didn't want no hard feelin's among neigh- 
 bors," and she hoped that Dally hadn't run 
 away from her. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs said that the child "had jest 
 gone out." 
 
 It became evident that Dally would have 
 to be summoned. She came slowly in and 
 stood by the door, with her hands behind 
 her and her head thrown back. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow again said that she " didn't 
 want no hard feelin's among neighbors." 
 
 A trying silence followed these words, for 
 Dally made no response. 
 
 "Mebby I was a little ha'sh yisterdy," said 
 the woman. 
 
 Dally now looked at her. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," she said, " yo' was." 
 
 Mrs. Winslow was somewhat disconcerted, 
 and Mrs. Jacobs began to worry about what 
 Dally might say or do. She looked at her 
 apprehensively. 
 
 " Mebby 'twould have ben jest as well if I 
 hadn't ben quite so ha'sh," said the visitor. 
 
 The widow, watching, saw that the girl was 
 not going to reply, and she hastened to say 
 that she hoped they'd all let by-gones be by-
 
 Il3 DALLY 
 
 gones, and act like Christians. It didn't look 
 very well to harbor malice, 'n' for her part, 
 she didn't mean to do it, nor let Dally. 
 
 Upon this Mrs. Winslow departed with 
 her empty basket. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs rose and put her hand on Dai- 
 ly's shoulder. 
 
 " We mustn't lay up nothin" aginst her 
 now," .she said, gently. " You know you did 
 shet her up ; 'n' we want ter be forgiven our- 
 selves." 
 
 Daily's eyes turned to her friend's face and 
 softened. 
 
 " Ef I ain't good, 'twon't be your fault," 
 she said, tremulously.
 
 X 
 
 A NEW-COMER AT THE WIDOWS 
 
 |'M almost afraid the child is begin- 
 nin' to grow up." 
 
 It was Mrs. Jacobs who spoke. 
 She was sitting in her front room, placidly 
 braiding old pieces of woollen cloth into a 
 rug. It was a very warm day. Too warm 
 for anybody to work. Mrs. Lander, in some 
 kind of a light gown that was very plain, and 
 yet that fluffed out on the floor at her feet 
 in a way often and silently admired by Dally, 
 was leaning very far back in a long steamer- 
 chair she had once provided for herself in one 
 of her sojourns in this house. She looked 
 half asleep. She had just said that it soothed 
 her to see some one working, and to know 
 that she herself need not lift her finger. She 
 made the statement that she did not think 
 that she should enjoy being lazy if she did 
 not know that thousands were sweating for 
 their bread. That knowledge gave a sweet- 
 ness to her indolence, she asserted.
 
 I20 DALLY 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs looked up at her shrewdly, 
 the squint in her eye more than usually no- 
 ticeable. 
 
 " You c'n talk like that as much as you 
 want to, to me," she said, " but you needn't 
 let Dally hear you. It's mighty poor stuff 
 for a grown woman to say." 
 
 To this-Mrs. Lander had replied that she 
 was not going to corrupt Dally in any way. 
 She added that the child now believed that 
 she, Mrs. Lander, was a kind of angel, and 
 she did not wish to undeceive her. 
 
 It was at this point in the conversation 
 that Mrs. Jacobs said she was afraid Dally 
 was growing up. 
 
 " She may have been older than you 
 thought when you found her down South," 
 she said. "You called her fourteen, you 
 know." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Lander, sleepily. "If 
 you want my honest opinion, Mrs. Jacobs, I 
 think it aged her in some way having that 
 struggle to make up her mind to ask Mrs. 
 Winslovv's pardon. It was a wrench." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs dropped her braid and clasped 
 her hands over her knee. 
 
 " I advised her for her good," she remarked,
 
 DALLY 121 
 
 earnestly. " I couldn't see no other way. 
 She'd done wrong, you know." 
 
 " Yes ; but if her confession had been re- 
 ceived in the right spirit, the effect would 
 have been so different. It was unfortunate 
 that that woman could be such a such a 
 devil." 
 
 The sentence was finished more softly than 
 her other words had been spoken. 
 
 "We can't help folks bein' devils," said 
 Mrs. Jacobs. 
 
 " No ; but we can refrain from abasing our- 
 selves to them." 
 
 The widow clasped her hands still more 
 tightly on her knee. Her face was more and 
 more overcast. She usually knew decidedly 
 what she thought, but in regard to Dally her 
 anxiety made her sometimes almost vacil- 
 lating. 
 
 "You think I done wrong?" she asked. 
 
 " I think you were the cause of Mrs. Wins- 
 low's committing the sin of not forgiving." 
 
 " I tell you I'm not goin' to saddle myself 
 with her sins," energetically exclaimed the 
 widow. " She may take care of herself." 
 
 " She will. Let her alone for that." 
 
 Mrs. Lander closed her eyes as if for a nap.
 
 122 DALLY 
 
 But her companion knew she was not asleep, 
 and had no compunction in speaking again, 
 after a silence. 
 
 " It's Dally I'm thinkin' about. She's 
 grown like a weed lately. I do hope I ain't 
 got to put long clo'es onto her. 'N' she 
 seems kinder more mature like." 
 
 " If she lives she will be obliged to get kind 
 of mature. It's the penalty we pay to the 
 years," came from the long chair. 
 
 " Oh, I do hope I sh'll bring her up right!" 
 cried Mrs. Jacobs, in an undertone, as if to 
 herself. 
 
 "What if you should shift the responsibil- 
 ity to me?" inquired Mrs. Lander. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs rose suddenly, letting her scis- 
 sors fall with a clatter. 
 
 The other woman opened her eyes, and 
 looked with slow intentness at her compan- 
 ion. As for Mrs. Jacobs, she felt as if she 
 had been struck. She had never thought of 
 this. She believed she knew Mrs. Lander 
 well enough to be convinced that she would 
 not want the trouble of Dally. 
 
 " You look as if I were a tiger, threatening 
 to devour the child," said Mrs. Lander, now
 
 DALLY 123 
 
 waving an old-fashioned feather fan that had 
 lain in her lap. 
 
 There was no reply. The widow was fright- 
 ened at the bare thought of life without Dal- 
 ly. Why, Dally had become what seemed 
 life itself. 
 
 She tried to draw herself up with the ques- 
 tion, sharply asked of herself, " Is it for her 
 good ? Not for outward good, but for the 
 soul, the individual, everlasting soul?" 
 
 But if Mrs. Lander ever wanted her, the time 
 had not yet come ; at least, she thought not. 
 
 " Don't get excited," she said, soothingly. 
 " I won't take her now. She shall be a still 
 further discipline for Mrs. Winslow. I see 
 you are attached to her." 
 
 " Attached to her !" repeated Mrs. Jacobs, 
 almost with a sob. But her eyes were dry. 
 Her heart was burning. How foofish she 
 had been, after all these years, to really love 
 anything ! 
 
 " Don't suffer,',' gently exclaimed Mrs. Lan- 
 der. The tone was as if she had recommend- 
 ed her friend not to take cold ; but the look 
 in her face bore a very different interpreta- 
 tion. She sat upright in her chair, and put 
 out her hand to touch the widow's arm.
 
 124 
 
 DALLY 
 
 " Are you sorry I sent her here ?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " No, no," was the reply. Mrs. Jacobs 
 went out of the room. She mounted the 
 stairs to that spare chamber where she was 
 accustomed to go when she wished to be en- 
 tirely undisturbed. But, with her hand on 
 the door, she remembered that the spare 
 chamber was now Mrs. Lander's room. 
 
 She stood a moment. 
 
 " 'Tain't no use thinkin'," she said, in a 
 whisper. " I know Lowizy Lander like a 
 book ; she's soft, 'n' she's sweet, 'n' she's 
 generous, 'n' you can't help likin' her; but 
 when she wants her own way she's goin' to 
 have it." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs went resolutely down -stairs 
 again, and, still with that air of resolution, 
 she began picking up Baldwin apples to dry 
 apples, as she said, were " skerce " this 
 year, and she must make the most of them. 
 She and all of the folks near had already be- 
 gun " to dry." But she did not experience 
 the usual pleasant sense of thrift because 
 she was saving something. The September 
 sunshine was not sunshine to her. To have 
 Dally taken away from her she could not
 
 DALLY 125 
 
 bear that. She looked vacantly at the Bald- 
 wins (" Baldins " she called them). She stood 
 with one in her hand, her eyes fixed on the 
 bluish-red flush on one side of it. It seemed 
 to her that her whole body was suffering, as 
 well as her mind. She kept saying, mechan- 
 ically, but noiselessly : 
 
 " When Lowizy Lander wants her own 
 way, she's goin' to have it." 
 
 Suddenly there was a rustle in the weeds 
 behind her, the other side of the wall. Some- 
 thing sprang over and began tossing up the 
 apples and running after them. It was Dai- 
 ly's puppy, and was followed almost imme- 
 diately by Dally herself, who came running 
 with such an impetus as almost to fall over 
 the apple basket. 
 
 She had the skirt of her tire twisted up 
 and held tightly in one hand. As soon as 
 she could she opened it, and revealed a quan- 
 tity of vivid blue " dangleberries," the last 
 of the huckleberry family that linger in the 
 autumn in upland pastures. 
 
 "One more pie, aunty!" she cried, in her 
 joyous young voice. " And only think, Sam 
 picked, too ; he picked an' et, but I only et 
 thur fust two or three. Why, aunty, what's 
 thur matter?"
 
 126 DALLY 
 
 Dally was looking with instant solicitude 
 at her companion. Sam, the puppy, frisked 
 and wagged unheeded. Mrs. Jacobs obeyed 
 her first impulse, and answered promptly, 
 "Nothin 1 ." 
 
 But Dally was not satisfied. " 'Tain't noth- 
 in' I've done?" she questioned. 
 
 " Oh, no." Then Mrs. Jacobs asked, " I 
 s'pose you've ben tollerble happy here, ain't 
 you, Dally?" 
 
 "Yo* ain't gwine ter send me away, be 
 yo'?" in quick terror. 
 
 The free hand clung to the woman's skirts. 
 
 " I never sh'll do that," answered Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs, with what seemed unnecessary fervor. 
 
 Dally was so relieved that she could now 
 give the information that she had had but 
 two trials since she came to Ransom. 
 
 " If I had my way," responded the widow, 
 " you never should have a trial in the world." 
 
 There was an unusual ring in the voice 
 which greatly impressed the girl. She felt 
 as if something were going to happen. 
 
 " Yes'm," she said, seriously, " I've had 
 two, 'n' I've got 'um now. You know they 
 tell to thur prayer meetin's how we all have 
 our burdens, so I reckon as thur Lord 'lows
 
 DALLY 127 
 
 we've gurt ter have 'um. I'll tell yo' mine. 
 When I ain't too sleepy, I pray 'bout 'um. 
 But mostly I'm too sleepy. One is that I 
 ain't gurt Barker. I keeper thinkin' of him 
 down thur with Old Tid. Yo' don't know 
 Old Tid. She's thur wussest critter God ever 
 made ; 'thout it's Mrs. Winslow. Ef Mrs. 
 Winslow'd ben livin' on White Crow, I reckon 
 she'd ben kind of er Old Tid. Such er word 
 as cuss must er been made ter call such folks 
 by. But I know it's wicked ter say cuss, 'n' 
 I ain't er gwine ter." 
 
 Daily's voice paused ; she stood holding up 
 her tire of dangleberries with one hand, while 
 the other grasped Mrs. Jacobs's skirt. The 
 girl was looking intently off towards the hori- 
 zon, where a few low hills were beginning to 
 glow in the slanting western light. 
 
 Her face was not so childish as when she 
 came. And Mrs. Jacobs noticed that her 
 frock needed another tuck let out. 
 
 " And what else plagues you ?" asked Mrs. 
 Jacobs. 
 
 Dally looked up confidingly, and said, 
 promptly : 
 
 " Mrs. Winslow !" 
 
 " But you done your duty, 'n' confessed, 'n'
 
 128 DALLY 
 
 arsked forgiveness, 'n' she forgave you !" re- 
 turned the other. 
 
 " She said she forgive me. Bill made her. 
 But she ain't done hit she ain't done hit," 
 answered Dally. " An' oh, aunty, I ain't gurt 
 over havin' ter arsk her. It was so awful ! 
 It hurt so ! An' how she looked at me !" 
 
 Daily's tanned hand left its hold on the 
 skirt, and was unconsciously pressed against 
 her bosom. 
 
 The elder face became so wrung with 
 unhappy doubt as Mrs. Jacobs heard these 
 words, and the tones in which they were spo- 
 ken, that she turned quickly away lest Dally 
 should see it. But Dally had seen it, and 
 hurried to say: 
 
 " I 'low it was right fur me to do hit, aunty, 
 'cos yo' said so ; an' I'd done wuss fur yo', 
 but " 
 
 The girl paused. Mrs. Lander was saun- 
 tering across the yard to them. Mrs. Jacobs 
 started, and said it was high time she made 
 a fire for tea. She took off Daily's apron of 
 berries, and went towards the house. The sun 
 sank behind Bald Hill, and twilight seemed 
 to come almost immediately. When the tea- 
 kettle was over the fresh fire, Mrs. Jacobs was
 
 DALLY 
 
 129 
 
 so uneasy that she went out again into the 
 yard, where Mrs. Lander and Dally were now 
 leaning against the fence, with Sam capering 
 'round them. 
 
 The widow could hear the lady's melodi- 
 ous, leisurely tones, and she could see the 
 turn of the girl's head as she looked up at 
 her. There was nothing in Mrs. Jacobs's 
 manner, as she approached the two, which 
 could have hinted at the pang in her 
 heart. 
 
 Before she spoke, the puppy ran down 
 the road, giving short barks of welcome, and 
 presently two figures emerged into sight. 
 Marietta Winslow cried out excitedly, as 
 she skipped forward: 
 
 " Oh, Dally, you can't never guess what 
 Bill's got for ye !" 
 
 The tall figure of young Winslow followed 
 behind his sister. He held an unpainted box 
 under his arm, and in the box was heard a 
 scuttling sound. 
 
 " Oh, Dally !" cried Marietta again, " I 
 wanted him ter give it ter me, but he said 
 he'd ben tamin' it for you all the time he's 
 ben in Snapit." 
 
 Bill set the box on the flat top of the fence. 
 9
 
 130 DALLY 
 
 It was then seen that the upper part and 
 one side were wire. 
 
 " It's a gray squirrel !" exclaimed Dally, 
 clasping her hands as she stood up tall to 
 look into the box. 
 
 Bill nodded. He was looking at Dally, 
 and Mrs. Lander and Mrs. Jacobs were look- 
 ing at him ; the same expression was on each 
 of their faces. 
 
 The young fellow seemed to the women 
 to have grown more manly since his visit 
 away from home ; taller and more decisive, 
 the boyish face having settled into more 
 positive lines. 
 
 " I can tame er squirrel," said Dally, rais- 
 ing her eyes to the boy ; " I c'n tame er heap 
 er wild things I useter, on White Crow." 
 Her face darkened as she added, " but Ole 
 Tid mostly killed um when she wor drunk." 
 
 These last words reminded her of the 
 pledge she had taken, and she remarked 
 that she "warn't gwine ter drink no more 
 liquor of any kind." 
 
 " Dally !" said Mrs. Jacobs. Mrs. Lander 
 laughed slightly, and put her hand on Dai- 
 ly's shoulder. 
 
 Marietta stared. She had heard about
 
 DALLY 131 
 
 Daily's drinking all the Widder 'Bijah's liq- 
 uor; but it appeared something dreadful to 
 her to hear Dally refer to the fact. 
 
 Bill broke the silence by saying that he 
 would put the cage wherever Dally liked. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs said she would be pleased 
 to have both the children come in, if their 
 mother hadn't no objections to their visiting 
 Dally. 
 
 She pronounced these words proudly, as if 
 it mattered little to her even though Mrs. 
 Winslow had such objections. 
 
 Bill stood up very straight and tall, and his 
 sister and Dally fixed their eyes on him in 
 undisguised admiration. 
 
 " My mother hasn't the slightest objec- 
 tions," he said; "she knows Met and I were 
 coming here." 
 
 "William, I congratulate you," said Mrs. 
 Lander, in her most winning voice. She put 
 out a very white hand to the boy, who blushed 
 deeply as he took it and held it a minute. He 
 knew all she meant by her words. He wished 
 he might kiss the hand that was so warm 
 and soft and flattering. But he did not 
 quite know how to do that. He sighed as 
 he dropped it.
 
 132 
 
 DALLY 
 
 He lifted the cage again, and the group 
 started to the house. 
 
 Dally, whose senses were almost as acute 
 as those of the animals on her native moun- 
 tains, paused in her walk behind the others 
 along the path. 
 
 " I hear steps," she said. The rest went 
 on, expecting her to follow. At the door 
 Bill stopped and then turned back, standing 
 a few feet from the girl, watching her. 
 
 l< What did you think you heard?" he asked. 
 
 She raised her hand. He saw the glow 
 of her eyes in the semi-darkness. 
 
 " Steps !" she replied, in a whisper. 
 
 A short figure became visible close by the 
 gate. It seemed to hesitate, though it did 
 not stop. 
 
 Dally wavered an instant as she looked at 
 it. Then she cried out, in a shrill, strong 
 voice, " Barker !"
 
 XI 
 
 MR. DODSON GIVES BARKER A LIFT 
 
 !R. DODSON usually made it a point 
 to reach the station in Farnham about 
 half an hour before the arrival of the 
 train he was to meet. He liked to " stand 
 round " on the platform and watch the sta- 
 tion-agent roll about the two or three boxes 
 and casks that were generally there, and that 
 seemed to be the identical boxes and casks 
 that had always been there. There never 
 were any more, and apparently never any 
 less. It was almost an excitement to Mr. 
 Dodson to see that track stretching away 
 over the solitary country, and to see those 
 casks, and he was not going to give up that 
 excitement, even though passengers whom 
 he brought to go to Providence in this train 
 from Boston, which he met, strongly object- 
 ed to being obliged to start so early and 
 spend so much time in that station. 
 
 But it was of no use remonstrating. Mr.
 
 134 DALLY 
 
 Dodson used to listen to such remonstrances, 
 then tilt his tall hat a little farther back, and 
 say he " guessed he sh'd have ter start 'bout 
 the same time he'd ben startin'." 
 
 As his horse went so slowly, and he stopped 
 so long in Farnham, indulging in his favorite 
 dissipation of staring at freight, it came to 
 pass that Mr. Dodson did not have time to 
 do anything else all day, but to go in the morn- 
 ing and again at night. And this arrange- 
 ment suited him ; he was perfectly happy in 
 it, and often told people he didn't know what 
 he should do if he didn't keep so busy all the 
 time ; he reckoned if he were not so busy 
 that his mind would be too much for him. 
 In what way his mind was going to get the 
 better of him he did not state. The Dod- 
 son place had been " nothin' but wrack V 
 ruin " for some years. Mrs. Dodson, a pale, 
 dejected -looking woman, who was always 
 patching her husband's flannel shirts, was 
 continually making the statement that " she 
 s'posed Josephus would er done something 
 ter the farm, but he was so awful busy he 
 couldn't ; and that's all there was about it ; 
 Josephus could not." It was thus that Jo- 
 sephus continued year after year to drive
 
 DALLY 135 
 
 the " deepo' wagon ;" and year after year his 
 mind did not get the better of him. 
 
 The fact that his wife had alt and more 
 than she could do to take care of the hens 
 and cows and the housework may be the 
 reason why she never meddled in " public 
 matters." Mr. Dodson, as we have said, 
 could not "abide women" who had any- 
 thing to do in " public matters." He had 
 a niece, resident in an adjoining town, who 
 was a member of the school committee there. 
 Mr. Dodson often said if he " only wasn't so 
 busy he should of ridden over 'n' seen about 
 it." But as he never found time to ride over 
 and see about it, the niece remained on the 
 school board. Still, Josephus felt it a dis- 
 grace to the family. He was speaking very 
 feelingly of this disgrace to a passenger who 
 wanted to ride from Snapit to Ransom Cen- 
 tre. He sometimes picked up a person to 
 take for a mile or two, and always charged 
 fifteen cents, if only for a dozen rods. He 
 explained that it was " consid'able trouble 
 ter stop, 'n' 'twas more for stoppin' than for 
 goin' that he had to charge." 
 
 " There seems to be er heap, or somethin', 
 in the road there," interrupted this passen-
 
 I3 6 DALLY 
 
 ger at the third recital of the Dodson family 
 disgrace. 
 
 Mr. Dodson was displeased to be inter- 
 rupted. He clucked to his horse, and said, 
 slightingly, that he " guessed it wa'n't noth- 
 in' more'n bushes." 
 
 But it was not bushes. It was a boy asleep 
 in a huddle, like an animal. In fact, it was 
 Barker. He was on his way to Dally. He 
 had come up in freight cars. He had suf- 
 fered a good deal ; but he was used to suf- 
 fering. He had not much mind, and per- 
 haps that was fortunate, for thus he did not 
 perceive the vastness and number of the 
 difficulties in his way. He had no partic- 
 ular morals, and could not be restrained 
 by conscientious scruples from anything he 
 wished to do, or from pilfering any kind 
 of goods or eatables that were within 
 reach. He did not starve, for he could 
 usually find the dinner-pail of some freight- 
 man. 
 
 To begin with, he was started on his way 
 by some person's paying his fare as far as 
 Richmond. But he was such a wretch to 
 look at and to smell that a fastidious con- 
 ductor put him in a freight train, with the
 
 DALLY 137 
 
 remark that it wasn't his business to take 
 vermin over the country. 
 
 From the moment of his running from 
 Ole Tid to Asheville, in North Carolina, his 
 whole mind had been bent on keeping a scrap 
 of paper which Dally had sent to him, by 
 forwarding it by mail to a woman who lived 
 near White Crow Mounting. This woman 
 could read ; she sometimes heard from the 
 post-office nearest White Crow, for some- 
 times she rode on her old horse over the 
 eight miles of red " State road" between her 
 home and the office. . And she had two or 
 three times been kind to the dirty, ragged 
 girl who was then one of " Ole Tid's .brats." 
 
 It was, therefore, this woman to whom 
 Dally, the moment she had learned how to 
 do it, had sent a laboriously printed note as 
 follows : 
 
 "I pray too God yole giv this papir to Barker. 
 It is whar i amm. He must kepe hit, furr it wil tote 
 him to me." 
 
 The paper bore, in Daily's print, these 
 words : 
 
 " Thurr wiclder bijah Jacobs ransom massychoo- 
 sits nigh ter borston."
 
 138 DALLY 
 
 That kind-hearted person, who had sent 
 Barker as far as Richmond, had deciphered 
 this document, and had pinned on to the 
 boy's jacket a correct and plain translation. 
 
 As Mr. Dodson, who naturally had plenty 
 of time, bent over the sleeping Barker, the 
 first thing he saw was the card fastened to 
 him. He read it. He read it again. 
 
 " Land o' liberty !" he exclaimed, with 
 something like animation. "If this ain't 
 another critter for the Widder 'Bijah ! She 
 simps to be sort of runnin' to them kind. 
 He's dressed well enough, too. I swan, I'm 
 beat ! Do you s'pose she sent for him?" 
 
 " He's dressed well enough, that's a fact 
 better'n my boy dresses," remarked the pas- 
 senger. 
 
 It was true that the boy had on a gray 
 knickerbocker suit. It was the gift of Miss 
 Pelham, in the next town. She had found 
 him in the freight-car, where she had been 
 looking for some goods. She had kept him 
 overnight. He had left her house early that 
 morning to walk to that place where Dally 
 was. But he had wandered hours over wrong 
 roads, and had finally lain down in the sun- 
 light and gone to sleep.
 
 DALLY 
 
 139 
 
 Mr. Dodson touched the boy with his 
 foot. 
 
 " P'raps I'll give him a lift, if he's goin' 
 my way," he said. 
 
 " I guess he ain't got no fifteen cents," 
 said the passenger. 
 
 Mr. Dodson did not reply. He had an 
 idea. If he spoke directly he was afraid 
 he might lose the idea. 
 
 Barker slept very heavily ; Mr. Dodson 
 touched him more decidedly with his boot, 
 and continued to touch him until the boy 
 moved, opened his eyes, and drawled, 
 
 "Be Dally thur?" 
 
 " No, she ain't here," was the answer, " but 
 I'm goin' within a mild of her, 'n' I'll take 
 ye. Git in." 
 
 Barker rose slowly. Mr. Dodson brought 
 his horse back from among the golden-rod at 
 the roadside, where it was browsing. 
 
 The boy stood in a kind of crouching po- 
 sition. He did not stir when horse and wagon 
 were again in the middle of the highway. 
 
 " Get in," said Mr. Dodson. 
 
 " Thur?" asked Barker. 
 
 The passenger, who was a spare, wiry man 
 of quick motions, took hold of the boy's arm
 
 140 
 
 DALLY 
 
 impatiently and thrust him forward, asking 
 whether he could move or not. 
 
 Something inside of Barker's tightly but- 
 toned jacket made a chinking sound as he 
 climbed into the wagon. 
 
 " Mebby the chap is stuffed full of silver 
 dollars," said the man, with a laugh ; " he 
 climbs as if he was." 
 
 Not only did Barker chink, but the front 
 of his jacket bulged out. He took no notice 
 of what was said, but lapsed, rather than sat, 
 down on the seat. 
 
 Two or three times one of the men put a 
 question to him, but he made no reply be- 
 yond an inarticulate sound. He seemed 
 almost like an inert mass. Still his eyes 
 sometimes looked out on the fast darkening 
 landscape. Once, after such a look, his gaze 
 came round to Mr. Dodson, and he asked : 
 "Ain't you-uns gurt no mountings?" 
 "We git 'long well enough 'thout 'um," 
 answered the driver, cheerfully. " If we don't 
 have 'um, we don't have ter climb 'um." 
 Barker looked out again. Then he said : 
 " I reckon I should want mountings." 
 The passenger remarked that he was " sorry 
 they couldn't 'commydate him."
 
 DALLY I 41 
 
 Very soon after this access of conversation 
 the spare man left and walked briskly up a 
 lane in the gathering twilight. 
 
 When he was alone with the boy, Mr. 
 Dodson inquired if the Widder 'Bijah had 
 sent for him. 
 
 " Sont fur me ?" repeated Barker, vaguely. 
 
 " Yes, sent for you ?" 
 
 " I d'know," said Barker. " She mought 
 er sont, but I d'know." 
 
 "Goodness!" cried Mr. Dodson, "I sh'd 
 think you'd know that." 
 
 Barker said nothing. 
 
 " Be you any relation to that gal with the 
 widder?" he asked. 
 
 " Relation ?" repeated the boy, his eyes 
 groping over Mr. Dodson's face. 
 
 " Mercy ! Don't you know what relation 
 means?" 
 
 Barker made no attempt at a reply. Mr. 
 Dodson sat in puzzled silence, expectorating 
 a good deal. He wondered if his idea would 
 answer, after all. 
 
 After a while he tried another experiment. 
 
 " I s'pose, now, you c'n milk cows first- 
 rate?" 
 
 " I hev milked strays as curm urp the 
 mounting."
 
 142 
 
 DALLY 
 
 Mr. Dodson felt encouraged. 
 
 " 'N' taken care er hens, too ?" he said, 
 feeling sure that the boy must have meant 
 cows when he used the word " strays." 
 
 Barker shook his head. It was too much 
 effort for him to reply. He wished the man 
 would be quiet. There was no use in talk- 
 ing. 
 
 Mr. Dodson was discouraged now, and did 
 not speak again until he pulled in his horse 
 at a corner, and remarked that he "s'posed 
 his companion hadn't got fifteen cents 
 about him." Barker again shook his head ; 
 . . . the man explained that fifteen cents 
 was his usual charge for picking up any- 
 body between Farnham and Ransom. If 
 Barker heard this explanation he made no 
 sign of having heard it. He remained in 
 his seat until he was told that the reason 
 they were stopping was because this was the 
 place for him " to git out." 
 
 Barker got out. When he was on his feet 
 he asked : 
 
 "Whar'shit at?" 
 
 "Jew mean the widder's?" 
 
 " Thur place on this " the boy put his 
 hand on the paper on his jacket.
 
 DALLY 143 
 
 Mr. Dodson leaned forward, and told Bar- 
 ker that if he "wasn't a born idjit he could 
 find it plain enough 'bout a mild, straight 
 down that road." 
 
 Barker turned the corner without a word, 
 in the direction the man had pointed, and 
 went along into the darkness. He walked 
 with a peculiar gait, lifting his legs as if he 
 were climbing an ascent, and hardly knew 
 how to walk on level ground. 
 
 Mr. Dodson sat with his arms on his knees, 
 watching the awkward figure melt into the 
 night. At last he gathered up the reins, 
 and said aloud, with a great deal of em- 
 phasis : 
 
 " I declare !" and clucked to his horse. 
 After an interval he said, again aloud, " I 
 guess I'll speak to Mis' Dodson about it." 
 
 He always spoke of his wife as " Mis' Dod- 
 son," evidently thinking that the dignity of 
 the position given her by her marriage with 
 him demanded such a title, even in the fa- 
 miliarity of their home. 
 
 Barker walked on, his hands hanging down, 
 his cap far back on his head. He kept stum- 
 bling. He thought he stumbled because the 
 ground was level. He had not known until
 
 144 DALLY 
 
 he left Asheville that there were places in 
 the world without mountains. 
 
 His sleep had revived him somewhat, but 
 his mind was even less clear than usual, for 
 he was dazed with his long journey. He 
 did not stop walking. The stars came out 
 with the wonderful brilliance that they have 
 in September. The crickets were making a 
 great deal of noise, and the katydids here 
 and there uttered their assertion and denial. 
 The boy, however, did not think of the stars, 
 or the crickets, or .the katydids. Could his 
 face have been seen, one would have said 
 that he did not think of anything. 
 
 Mr. Dodson had told him that the place 
 on the card fastened to his jacket was " about 
 a mild." Barker had no idea how far that 
 was. He passed three farm-houses, removed 
 somewhat from each other ; he stopped at 
 each one and prowled until a man or boy, 
 coming from the house to go to the barn for 
 "chores," found him. By the light of the 
 lanterns they carried they read the card, and 
 told him to go straight on. They asked a 
 great many questions, but he did not an- 
 swer any of them. 
 
 The universal decision among them was
 
 DALLY 145 
 
 that " if the Widder 'Bijah took him, she'd 
 have her hands fuller than they'd ever ben 
 yet." 
 
 At one of the houses a dog bounced out 
 growling at him ; the animal evidently in- 
 tended to seize the boy by the ankle ; but as 
 Barker stood perfectly still, the dog was so 
 astonished that he relinquished the intention, 
 and merely remained on guard, muttering in 
 his throat until his master came out to see 
 what was the matter. 
 
 Thus, at last, Barker came to the little gate 
 where Dally had stood some months before. 
 He hesitated ; he saw a figure on the path 
 near the door. He wondered when he should 
 come to the right house, and whether the 
 next dog would really bite him. 
 
 The figure in the path came nearer to him. 
 The brilliant starlight shone on the faces of 
 both. The boy did not move or speak, but 
 he knew her. It was Dally who cried out, 
 "Barker!" 
 10
 
 XII 
 
 WHAT BARKER BROUGHT TO DALLY 
 
 iRS. JACOBS, mixing a "cushion 
 cake " for her belated supper, heard 
 Daily's excited cry of recognition, 
 and ran through the sitting-room to the 
 front door, scattering flour from her hands 
 as she went. 
 
 Mrs. Lander, with a white shawl over her 
 shoulders, was leaning against one side of 
 the door. Bill Winslow's tall, slim figure 
 was seen in the path near the gate, and just 
 outside the gate Dally was standing, grasp- 
 ing Barker by the shoulders. 
 
 " Has anything happened," asked Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs, peering out into the darkness, her eyes 
 blinded by just coming from the kitchen 
 lamp. " Where's Dally?" 
 
 " I suspect you have a guest, Mrs. Jacobs," 
 Mrs. Lander's somewhat mocking voice re- 
 plied. " I suspect Barker has arrived." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," piped up an eager tone from
 
 DALLY 147 
 
 the denser gloom under the lilac, " she called 
 him Barker. It's him." 
 
 It was Marietta who spoke. She longed 
 to rush out where Dally was, but a feeling 
 that she might intrude restrained her ; and 
 she had gone under the lilac, but had taken 
 in every smallest detail of this meeting. She 
 Considered that she was highly favored in 
 that she happened to be present. She won- 
 dered what Bill thought. Since Bill had 
 been to High School and begun to use his 
 verbs and other parts of speech with more 
 correctness, and also talked of going to col- 
 lege, Marietta had accesses of something like 
 awe in her thoughts of her brother. 
 
 If she could find out what Bill thought 
 about this new-comer, it would settle things 
 a good deal in her mind. 
 
 She told herself she would know all about 
 it on their walk home. So she tried to wait, 
 meanwhile straining her eyes and ears from 
 her retreat. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs returned immediately to the 
 kitchen, and brought back the lamp, which 
 she held up over her head, trying to see the 
 group by the gate. 
 
 " If anybody's come, Dally," she called out,
 
 148 DALLY 
 
 with forced cheerfulness, " bring 'em right 
 in." 
 
 The rays of the lamp fell on the girl and 
 boy as they approached slowly up the path, 
 Dally leading him, with a hand gripped tight- 
 ly upon his sleeve. 
 
 Bill Winslow moved out of the way to let 
 them pass. He was looking at Dally, seeing 
 the absolute radiance of her face. She did 
 not seem to see him, but went on, her gaze 
 on the woman who stood with the lamp, and 
 who had been, as the child so often thought, 
 " heavenly kind " to her. 
 
 Mrs. Lander pulled her gown aside as Bar- 
 ker came through the doorway. Her face 
 expressed no feeling towards the boy, but 
 she glanced with softening eyes at Dally, who 
 was following the widow into the kitchen. 
 
 Outside, Marietta made a movement to 
 press forward into the house, but Bill said, 
 gruffly : 
 
 " Come along, Met ; we'll go home," and 
 the two walked silently along the vocal and 
 odorous country road. Somehow Marietta 
 could not ask her brother the questions she 
 had intended. 
 
 When they were near their home the girl
 
 DALLY 
 
 149 
 
 said, timidly, that she hoped " mar wouldn't 
 begin to fling 'cause Barker 'd come." 
 
 " I'll fix mar," was the irreverent response. 
 
 In the cosey Jacobs kitchen Dally, stand- 
 ing beside the strange boy and looking with 
 confident eyes at Mrs. Jacobs, said : 
 
 "Aunty, this" is Barker." 
 
 Barker raised heavy eyelids, and directed 
 dull eyes at Mrs. Jacobs, who appeared to 
 have, for an instant, a little difficulty in find- 
 ing her voice. 
 
 When it did come, in spite of all her efforts, 
 it was a trifle dry and hard. 
 
 " He must be mighty hungry 'n' tired. 
 Let him set right down in that rocker while 
 I finish gittin' supper." 
 
 The boy sat down in the rocker, and Dally 
 stood beside him. Mrs. Lander placed herself 
 in another chair, and contemplated the two. 
 
 She had no hesitation in telling herself that 
 that lump of coarse clay made her sick. She 
 decided that it was not because Barker's face 
 was so ugly to look at. It was his personal- 
 ity, his individuality. 
 
 What had the brute come for? And now 
 he had come, why wasn't he glad to see Dal- 
 ly ? He sat there, heavy, leaden.
 
 150 
 
 DALLY 
 
 The women, the one who watched him and 
 the one who was preparing his supper, knew 
 that the room was no longer cosey. Its 
 cheery, homelike feeling was gone. 
 
 Did Dally know it? Mrs. Jacobs, fighting 
 hard against what might be an injustice to 
 the boy, looked at the girl. Thus looking, 
 her eyes caught Daily's glance, full, trusting. 
 But as the young gaze dwelt for an instant 
 on the careworn face, a troubled expression 
 came to it. 
 
 Was it possible that any one was not glad 
 to see Barker? 
 
 The girl turned towards Mrs. Lander, and 
 that lady gave her a very sweet but rather 
 impersonal smile, which failed to cheer her or 
 to clear up matters any. 
 
 Was there any defiance in the cloud that 
 came on Daily's face? She turned back to 
 the boy, whose head hung forward, as if he 
 were asleep. Only Dally, who was familiar 
 with his ways, knew he was not asleep. 
 
 " I wish you'd set the table, Dally," called 
 out Mrs. Jacobs from the buttery. The girl 
 started alertly forward, and gladly began her 
 work. Mrs. Lander, tired of seeing that creat- 
 ure in the large chair, sauntered out into the
 
 DALLY I 5 I 
 
 yard, and strolled about until she was called 
 to supper. She hesitated when she saw that 
 the boy had already been placed at the table. 
 There was haughtiness in the way she said 
 that she could wait, and take her supper later. 
 
 The Widder 'Bijah had had too many poor- 
 house people as her guests to shrink from this 
 stranger, who, thanks to the kind offices of 
 Miss Pelham the night before, was not nearly 
 so dirty as he might have been. After Dally 
 had guided him to the sink and made him 
 wash face and hands, he was respectable, so 
 far as cleanliness went. He ate ravenously, 
 and like an animal. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs, during the process, could only 
 tell herself that she wished she was out on 
 the stoop with Mrs. Lander. But she sat at 
 her post, and kept giving great pieces of hot 
 cake to the boy, and filling his cup with well- 
 sweetened tea. As for Dally, she did not 
 even pretend to eat. The mingling of joy 
 and anxiety made her eyes dilate and her 
 face pale. 
 
 Barker did not change much under the in- 
 fluence of food and drink. The doughy, un- 
 derdone aspect of his face was, possibly, a 
 trifle less pronounced.
 
 152 DALLY 
 
 It was warm in the little kitchen. The 
 atmosphere and the hot tea made the moist- 
 ure stand on Barker's forehead and cheeks. 
 
 "Why don't you unbutton your jacket?" 
 asked Mrs. Jacobs. "You'd be more com- 
 fortable." 
 
 The boy made an inarticulate sound, but 
 no movement to do as Mrs. Jacobs had sug- 
 gested. Dally slipped round from her seat 
 to his side and put her hand on the top but- 
 ton. He pushed the hand down roughly, 
 but still slowly. He was slow about every- 
 thing. 
 
 "They'll drap out if yo' do hit," he said. 
 
 It was with difficulty that the widow kept 
 her seat. She conquered an almost irresisti- 
 ble inclination to go and shake the boy furi- 
 ously. 
 
 " What'll drop out ?" asked Dally, standing 
 back from his chair and putting her hands 
 behind her in a way she had. 
 
 "Them." 
 
 "Can't you tell?" she asked again. 
 
 He grunted. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Lander came in, and 
 Mrs. Jacobs handed her a cup of tea, which 
 she sipped leaning on her empty chair.
 
 DALLY 153 
 
 Dally turned towards the widow. " Aunty," 
 she said, " he must be awful tired." 
 
 The girl was trying to understand her own 
 feelings. She had known through all their 
 childhood that Barker was not like her. But 
 on White Crow it had all been so different. 
 Living there with Ole Tid, Barker's face and 
 manner and soul had not contrasted unfavor- 
 ably with his surroundings. Now Daily's 
 confusion became more and more painful. 
 That confusion and her surprise struggled 
 with a sense of loyalty and made her heart 
 ache strangely. She did not in the least 
 know what was the matter. She only knew 
 that now, when Barker, whom she had so 
 much desired, had really come, she was poig- 
 nantly unhappy. She did not understand. 
 She wanted to spring like a tiger at Mrs. 
 Lander, who had calmly refused to eat with 
 Barker. But even in that feeling was a dim 
 sense that she did not blame Mrs. Lander, 
 or any one, for not wishing to eat with him. 
 It was a shock to herself. She hated to see 
 him gobble and suck, and breathe hard over 
 his food and- drink. 
 
 And now, what horrible thing was coming 
 out about why he would not have his jacket 
 unfastened ?
 
 154 DALLY 
 
 She had an intuitive sense that "Aunty" 
 would find out before the boy was allowed 
 to go to bed. And she was right. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs's suspicions were fully aroused. 
 
 After the supper dishes were washed, 
 during which process the new guest sat 
 again in the big rocker, and Mrs. Lander ap- 
 peared to be reading a magazine at a lamp- 
 stand, the widow turned towards Barker and 
 said : 
 
 " If you're goin' ter stay here, I guess 
 you'll have to tell me about what you've 
 brought." 
 
 Barker moved slightly, but did not speak. 
 He looked at Dally, who stood near, palpi- 
 tating with excitement. The muscles of his 
 face stirred in such a way that the spectators 
 almost thought he smiled, although his eyes 
 did not change. 
 
 " Fur her," he said, moving his head tow- 
 ards Dally. 
 
 " Something you brought for her?" repeat- 
 ed Mrs. Jacobs, cheerfully. " Well, what is 
 it?" 
 
 Mrs. Lander laid down her magazine. She 
 supposed such creatures were necessary in 
 the world.
 
 DALLY 155 
 
 Barker's stubby hand began to open his 
 jacket. 
 
 " I gurt um fur her," he said. " I 'lowed 
 she war fond of um. Thur wa'n't nary er 
 thing round, an' I took um easy. An' I 
 run." 
 
 He held his jacket together at the bot- 
 tom, and with great deliberation removed, 
 one by one, eight heavy silver tablespoons, 
 three teaspoons, and five forks. He put 
 them on the wide hearth of the cookstove, 
 near which he stood. 
 
 Mrs. Lander rose and came forward. One 
 glance at this silver showed that it was of 
 such weight and such workmanship as is 
 found only in the homes of wealth. 
 
 She took up a spoon. " You have excel- 
 lent taste, Barker," she remarked, as she 
 looked at it. 
 
 Dally turned ferociously towards her. But 
 Mrs. Lander was equal to this phase of the 
 girl. She felt that she could not bear to 
 lose that fresh, sweet adoration which had 
 been offered her. She clasped Daily's clenched 
 hand ; she drew her to her in spite of some 
 resistance. She held her close against her 
 side, and bent over her, saying tenderly :
 
 156 DALLY 
 
 " Dear child ! Do you think I will endure 
 to have you angry with me ? I am not going 
 to have anything, not even Barker, come be- 
 tween us." 
 
 This was not in the least an apology, but 
 Dally thought it was. And older people 
 were not often able to hold out against a 
 certain cadence in Mrs. Lander's voice. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs had gathered the silver from 
 the stove-hearth, and was putting it carefully 
 in a fine napkin. 
 
 " I see it is marked ' Pelham '," said Mrs. 
 Lander, still keeping Dally close to her, per- 
 haps knowing what power contact with her 
 had upon the girl. 
 
 "Yes," replied Mrs. Jacobs, sternly. 
 
 " You can easily send it back," continued 
 Mrs. Lander. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Jacobs again. 
 
 She continued to roll the napkin about the 
 spoons. She would have said that she was 
 " trying to see light." Her way looked ex- 
 tremely dark before her. In addition to be- 
 ing deeply repulsive, this creature was also a 
 thief. 
 
 She kept thrusting back from her the temp- 
 tation to put Barker in care of the selectmen
 
 DALLY 157 
 
 and let him be taken straight to the poor- 
 house. She revolted at the thought of his 
 being under her roof, even for one night. 
 
 Mingled with this temptation came the 
 memory of her monthly contributions for 
 foreign missions. Why did she contribute 
 to the heathen? Why was she a Christian? 
 It had been a happiness, mingled with a great 
 deal of puzzled care, to take Dally. But this 
 being ! Had he a soul, and was it as precious 
 as Daily's? It was a part of Mrs. Jacobs's 
 creed always to think of souls. Mrs. Lander 
 often told her that she believed souls were 
 just as well left to take care of themselves ; 
 if you thought of them you were sure to 
 be uncomfortable. And why be uncomforta- 
 ble? 
 
 " I'll go over myself in the morning," at 
 last said Mrs. Jacobs, tying a white string 
 around the package. 
 
 Barker clumsily got out of his chair and 
 stood by it. He was holding tight to each 
 side of his jacket. His half-torpid eyes were 
 fixed on the widow as she stood, resolved and 
 alert. 
 
 " Yo' needn't be afeared," he said. " They 
 won't cotch me. Dally'll like thur spoons."
 
 153 DALLY 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs groaned. 
 
 "You stole urn," she said. "And from 
 folks who were kind to ye." 
 
 "But they won't cotch me," repeated Bar- 
 ker. He added that Dally liked "shiny 
 things." 
 
 As for Dally, she seemed incapable of 
 speech for the moment. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs was not going to stand and 
 argue with the boy. She told him sharply 
 that he need not speak again. He had stolen 
 the silver from the Pelham house. It should 
 be carried back. 
 
 She made up a bed on the old settee in 
 the kitchen. She sent Dally up- stairs to 
 bed, and she waited until Barker was asleep, 
 which was as soon as he lay down ; then she 
 carefully locked him in and went to the sit- 
 ting-room, where Mrs. Lander was still en- 
 gaged with her magazine. 
 
 " Don't talk !" exclaimed the widow, as she 
 sat down. " I've got a mighty sight of think- 
 in' to do between now 'n' mornin', 'n' I want 
 all my wits about me. I guess I shall need 
 what mind I've got, 'n' more, too." 
 
 It was Dally who returned the silver. She 
 begged to do it. She walked over to Lane-
 
 DALLY 159 
 
 ville with it. As she was passing by the 
 Winslows' the door opened, and Bill came 
 out on his way to school. 
 
 He was struck by the tragedy in Daily's 
 face. He walked beside her, but did not 
 speak until they were out of sight of the 
 Winslows'. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he asked. Then 
 he exclaimed, impetuously : " Do let me help 
 you !" 
 
 The voice and the look of the boy were too 
 much for Daily's self-possession. She sud- 
 denly began to cry in such a tornado-like 
 way as to make her companion wild with 
 wonder and sympathy. She had not slept, 
 she had not cried, all night. She had not 
 known how to deal with the emotions that 
 thronged upon her and tossed her about 
 through the dark hours. She had wanted 
 Barker; but it was "horrid" to have him. 
 Why was it horrid ? Hadn't she known before 
 that he was a dirty little lump of a wretch, 
 .who always stole when he had a chance? 
 But he had thought to please her with that 
 silver. She couldn't have him live with her ; 
 she couldn't have him go away. She should 
 never be happy again.
 
 160 DALLY 
 
 Bill silently took the package from Dally. 
 It seemed to burden her. She bent over and 
 wrung her hands. She made heart-breaking 
 little moans. The worst of her suffering came 
 from the consciousness that she was not really 
 loyal to Barker. If she were, would she be 
 disgusted? She could not remember that 
 she used to be disgusted.
 
 XIII 
 
 MR. DODSON ACTS UPON HIS IDEA 
 
 (HE Jacobs neighborhood was excit- 
 ed. There was a certain holy horror 
 mingled with the excitement that 
 made it intensely enjoyable. The woman 
 who had once come to Mrs. Jacobs for cher- 
 ry rum for her daughter's " cholery morbus," 
 and who had found that Dally had taken that 
 rum, this woman told every one she saw that 
 " things wa'n't as they used to be ; things 
 wa'n't right. She didn't think 'twas fittin' 
 for the Widder 'Bijah to carry on with sech 
 a high hand." 
 
 The general feeling seemed to be that the 
 widow ought to be spoken to. But when it 
 came to trying to decide who should speak 
 to her, no one seemed eager for that duty. 
 The unanimous vote fell upon Mrs. Peter 
 Winslow, but, to the surprise of all, that 
 lady refused point blank to meddle. She 
 said with decision that " she wouldn't touch 
 the matter with a ten-foot pole." 
 ii
 
 162 DALLY 
 
 It was then remembered and commented 
 upon that Mrs. Winslow had not been heard 
 to join in the conversation about the "doin's " 
 at the Jacobs place. She listened eagerly to 
 all talk, but when any one turned to her she 
 only nipped her lips in and said she " hadn't 
 nothin' to say." 
 
 The reason for this reticence was because 
 her son William, true to his assertion to his 
 sister, had " fixed his mother." 
 
 That morning when he had joined Dally, 
 who was on her way to return the stolen sil- 
 ver, he had not only walked as far as the 
 school-house with her, but he had accompa- 
 nied the girl all the way to Laneville and 
 back. It seemed to him barbarous that she 
 should go alone, suffering as she did. But 
 the two had hardly spoken. When they had 
 parted, not far from Mrs. Jacobs's, Dally had 
 looked solemnly at him, her swollen eyes hav- 
 ing an expression which seemed to the boy 
 to " stab right into him." All she had said, 
 however, had been : 
 
 " Bill, I thank yo' very much." 
 
 Then she had hurried away from him. He 
 had had great difficulty with his Latin and 
 mathematics that day. He did not know
 
 DALLY 163 
 
 what Dally had carried to Laneville to Miss 
 Pelham's, for he remained behind when she 
 went up to the great mansion from which 
 Barker had stolen the spoons. 
 
 He knew she was terribly shaken when 
 she rejoined him. He knew, also, though 
 he told himself he had no reason for know- 
 ing, that it all had something to do with 
 that boy, who had come the night before. 
 Nothing could have made him ask a ques- 
 tion. 
 
 He thought it would be safe to " fix mar " 
 directly. He didn't know what she might 
 do or say if she learned of Barker's arrival 
 before she was fixed. Barker did not appear 
 as if he would be a credit to any one. Bill 
 could not bear to think that creature was 
 any relation to Dally and how his mother 
 would, as one might say, relish the fact that 
 the creature was the girl's brother. 
 
 As soon as Bill walked into the house on 
 his arrival from school, he flung his books 
 down and asked his sister where his mother 
 was. He was informed that she was " tendin' 
 to the dried apples." 
 
 Marietta was bursting with long-smothered 
 excitement.
 
 1 64 DALLY 
 
 " Oh, Bill," she cried out; "I ain't told 
 her that Barker's come." 
 
 " That's the talk," returned Bill, approv- 
 ingly. " I knew you wouldn't." 
 
 Marietta blushed with pride. 
 
 " I told par, when he was splittin' wood, 
 'n' I went for chips," she announced. 
 
 "What did par say?" 
 
 " He said 'twould be jest as well not to 
 say nothin' 'bout it to mar; she'd hear of it 
 soon 'nough. 'N' he said he guessed there'd 
 be the old Harry to pay." 
 
 Bill stood in the middle of the room with 
 his hands in his pockets. His mind was 
 absorbed by the thought of Dally, and how 
 she had looked that morning. But he gave 
 a superficial attention to his sister's words. 
 
 " I'll go out to mother," he said, in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow's face always lighted at 
 sight of her son. The tall fellow rapidly 
 shuffled the half-dried apples off of the boards 
 into the baskets, that they might be taken in 
 for the night. 
 
 He informed his mother, in rather an off- 
 hand manner, that Daily's brother, from 
 North Carolina, had come.
 
 DALLY 165 
 
 " I'll bet he's nothin' to boast of," she said 
 quickly and viciously. 
 
 " I guess so, too," was the response. " I 
 saw him. He came while Met and I were 
 there. He's a tough one, by the looks of 
 him. He'll make trouble." Here Bill looked 
 his mother full in the eyes, with that mas- 
 terful way which she adored, and which she 
 never dared to go against, and said : 
 
 " I shall expect you won't say anything to 
 make things unpleasant for the folks over 
 there," nodding his head in the direction of 
 the widow's. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow whined a little, rebelliously. 
 She admired her tyrant, but she foresaw how 
 greatly she should be tempted to disobey. 
 
 Bill frowned fiercely. He did not waste 
 any more words. He had ruled his mother 
 too many years to have any fears now for 
 his empire. 
 
 Therefore it was that Mrs. Winslow did 
 not say anything upon the topic presently 
 much talked of ; but she looked all she could. 
 
 Barker was supposed to do Mrs. Jacobs's 
 "chores." It is well known in New Eng- 
 land that chores include a variety of dif- 
 ferent kinds of work, but none of it is heavy.
 
 166 DALLY 
 
 They usually require to be done, mostly, 
 night and morning, with a few duties at noon. 
 A man who is quite feeble is generally able 
 to " do his chores." 
 
 When there is only one cow to milk, every- 
 thing is much easier, for milking has always 
 been considered under this head. Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs kept one cow, two pigs to " root round" 
 under the barn, about fifty hens, and one old 
 horse. She needed the horse to take her to 
 meeting. She didn't need the pigs, but she 
 said she was used to pigs, and it seemed 
 kind of shiftless not to have one on the place. 
 She was in the habit of doing all her chores 
 herself, as well as her housework. But she 
 hired a man to take care of her garden. Since 
 Dally had come, the two had done the work 
 together, and Mrs. Jacobs was surprised at 
 the amount of enjoyment there was in "put- 
 tering round" at the barn and on the farm, 
 with Dally to help. When Dally went to 
 school there was still time in the morning, and 
 the widow had all the day to look for the 
 girl's return. If the elder woman did not care 
 to go out, Dally could do it all alone, and was 
 only subject to such lapses as saved life from 
 being monotonous. You never knew exactly
 
 DALLY 167 
 
 what Dally might do, but as time went on, 
 the chances grew smaller that it would be 
 anything really dreadful. One of the child's 
 charms was the extent and variety of her 
 possibilities. 
 
 And now that Barker had come, Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs was dreading something all the time. 
 
 It was. not long before the people near 
 missed their best pears and grapes. There 
 were awful times in hen-roosts. Horses past- 
 ured in remote fields had been found " all 
 of a lather." Somebody had ridden them. 
 Cream, in little dairy-houses built over wells, 
 was gone. Woods were set on fire. Eggs 
 were strangely scarce. But all these things 
 put together were not so disagreeable as a 
 curious sense of some evil which pervaded 
 the hamlet. 
 
 Peter Winslow, in consultation with his 
 daughter in the wood-house, said he didn't 
 want to blame nobody. It was jest like old 
 witchcraft times. He shouldn't be surprised 
 one bit to see an old woman flying through 
 the sky on a broomstick. 
 
 Marietta, who was somewhat literal-mind- 
 ed, immediately asked, " What old wom- 
 an ?"
 
 168 DALLY 
 
 Mr. Winslow chuckled and hesitated, but 
 finally said : 
 
 " I guess yer mother 'd do's well's any- 
 body for a broomstick." 
 
 Marietta asserted that mar was too heavy 
 to go in that way. And she began to put 
 unanswerable questions as to how any one 
 could ride a broomstick, and what made the 
 broomstick go, until Mr. Winslow was very 
 sorry he had started the subject. 
 
 However strong suspicion might be, as yet 
 no one could say there was the slightest rea- 
 son that this suspicion should rest on Barker. 
 He did not seem to go anywhere. People 
 driving by the Jacobs farm would often see 
 the boy "low louting" across the yard, per- 
 haps, as he would say, "toting" wood, or 
 with a milk-pail in his hand. If he looked 
 at any one, it was with downward head, in a 
 furtive manner. He was not tall, but had a 
 stunted appearance. Although Mrs. Jacobs 
 faithfully saw that he washed his face and 
 hands before each meal, the boy was always 
 grimy. True to her principles, however, the 
 widow had him sit at the table with her. 
 She said that she did not consider that she 
 was any better than other folks. To this
 
 DALLY 169 
 
 Mrs. Lander responded that she herself was 
 not considering the question of souls and 
 immortality, but she personally preferred 
 not to see that kind of finger-nails, and not to 
 hear that kind of noise when she was taking 
 her own food and drink. So it came to pass 
 that this lady was served first. Then Mrs. 
 Jacobs and Dally and Barker broke their fast. 
 
 But there was no more cheer and happi- 
 ness at the meals. Dally was not like her- 
 self. The boy, however, seemed to be ex- 
 actly himself. He ate and drank a great 
 deal. If he were any more pleased to be 
 with Dally than not to be with her, no one 
 knew it, not even the girl. 
 
 The widow used to see Dally look ear- 
 nestly at the boy, her mouth drooping and 
 her brow frowning. 
 
 When a week or two had passed, a great 
 many of Mrs. Jacobs's hens had died ; the 
 cow had "shrunk in her milk" to that degree 
 that the widow was obliged to buy milk of 
 a neighbor. One pig had died, and the oth- 
 er appeared to be ailing. 
 
 "And I can't put my finger on a thing," 
 cried the widow to herself. 
 
 Mrs. Lander openly asserted and main-
 
 170 DALLY 
 
 tained that she did not believe the Lord re- 
 quired that the entire neighborhood should 
 be sacrificed in order to give Barker's soul a 
 chance to live. She even went so far as to 
 say that some souls were far more valuable 
 than others, and she did not believe this 
 boy's soul was worth a cent. She occasion- 
 ally showed by a phrase or word that she 
 had been brought up in New England. 
 
 Daily's hound, Sam, at first refused even 
 to stop growling in Barker's presence. He 
 would sit up on his haunches close by his 
 mistress, and keep up a low and almost in- 
 cessant thunder, his tail stretched out rigidly 
 behind him. 
 
 He would wag the tip of this tail a very 
 little when Dally remonstrated, but would 
 not stop growling. 
 
 Barker, in his slow, sullen way, once said 
 to Dally that " Mebby he'd pison that critter 
 when he gurt ready." 
 
 The girl's eyes flamed. She threw out 
 her hand as if already defending her pet. 
 
 " If yo' p'ison him, I'll kill yo' !" she cried. 
 
 And then Barker's face, rather than Barker 
 himself, grinned sluggishly. He made no 
 reply, but walked away.
 
 DALLY 171 
 
 Dally felt that life was getting very hard. 
 Her gray squirrel, which Bill Winslow had 
 given her, was another constant source of 
 anxiety to her. She kept it and the dog 
 where she slept, and every day when she 
 went to school she solemnly committed them 
 to Mrs. Jacobs's care, lest " something might 
 happen to them." 
 
 She never said at whose hands something 
 might happen. It was no wonder that the 
 child grew haggard and thin. 
 
 It was on one of those days that Mr. Dod- 
 son hitched his horse in Mrs. Jacobs's yard, 
 and came in at the back door. 
 
 He said he had been so busy he couldn't 
 come before. He said it was a good deal of 
 trouble to go over to the " deepo " twice a 
 day. 
 
 To these statements Mrs. Jacobs respond- 
 ed, dryly, that it must be lots of trouble. 
 She wondered why he had come. She did 
 not know that he had been cherishing his 
 idea ever since he had given Barker a lift on 
 the road. 
 
 He conversed for a while about the relig- 
 ious interest, which, he was sorry to say, 
 seemed to be subsiding. He thought fewer
 
 172: DALLY 
 
 sheaves had been gathered for the Master 
 than he had hoped when the revival began. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs waited patiently until he 
 should make known his errand. At last it 
 was revealed that he was so very busy he 
 would like to take Barker over to his place 
 to help him. He " would lodge, V clothe, 
 'n' victual" the boy for what work he would 
 do. He guessed he would keep him right 
 along. 
 
 The widow conscientiously remarked that 
 Barker was not as much help to her as she 
 had hoped; she didn't exactly know why; 
 she didn't want Mr. Dodson to take him un- 
 der false impressions. She could not help 
 adding, with some art, that "p'raps the boy 
 needed a man." 
 
 Mr. Dodson smiled indulgently. He said 
 he didn't know 'bout that, but he guessed 
 Mis' Dodson could manage him. He'd resk 
 Mis' Dodson with 'most any boy. He him- 
 self was so busy that he couldn't do much. 
 Mis' Dodson would tend to Barker. 
 
 Barker, being brought forward, was torpid 
 as usual. He manifested no repugnance 
 towards going with Mr. Dodson. He did 
 not mention Dally.
 
 DALLY 173 
 
 When he was in the carriage, Mrs. Jacobs 
 forced herself to tell him that he must re- 
 member " that this was his home to come 
 to, any time." 
 
 He nodded. And so he went off to be 
 " tended to " by Mis' Dodson. 
 
 That night, when Dally went up-stairs to 
 her own little room, the peace that filled her 
 heart was, she feared, something wicked. She 
 could hardly bear to acknowledge to herself 
 that it was peace. She prayed to God to 
 forgive her for being glad that Barker was 
 gone.
 
 XIV 
 
 GROWN UP 
 
 [ARIETTA WINSLOW has grown 
 into a tall girl who has an eye to 
 dress, and who has " steady compa- 
 ny." Some call it having " a beau." He 
 came every Sunday evening, and remained 
 until eleven. This is what constitutes " stid- 
 dy company." 
 
 When a beau has arrived at the ability to 
 visit Sunday evenings, and the fact becomes 
 known, it is tantamount to the announce- 
 ment of an engagement. The girl is then 
 believed to be " fixing." In other words, 
 she is supposed to be making table-cloths, 
 pillow-cases, and other articles necessary for 
 housekeeping. 
 
 If a girl is known to have an admirer, you 
 do not usually ask if she is engaged ; you in- 
 quire if she is " fixing." You will be under- 
 stood. There is a certain respect accorded to 
 a young woman in this position. Although
 
 DALLY 175 
 
 she is not yet married, she will soon be. She 
 has secured, or almost secured, the man. 
 Girls who are not fixing, try, in her compa- 
 ny, to seem as if they did not envy her. 
 They talk gayly ; they rally the engaged 
 one ; they say they have never seen the man 
 yet whom they would even think of marry- 
 ing. The lucky one appears to believe them. 
 Marietta was very forbearing in her man- 
 ner, notwithstanding the exaltation of her 
 position. She wrote to her brother Bill, who 
 was at college, that one of the best things 
 about being engaged was that it made " mar 
 haul in her horns a little." Marietta frankly 
 confessed that she didn't know what she 
 should have done with mar, seeing Bill was 
 away, if she hadn't been engaged. She pit- 
 ied poor par. When she and Theodore were 
 married she wished par would come and live 
 with her, and let mar go it alone, and see 
 how she liked it. Par almost cried every 
 time the marriage was mentioned. In re- 
 turn, Bill would write that his father must 
 be induced in some way to brace up and call 
 his soul his own. But while he wrote those 
 words he knew that Mrs. Winslow's husband 
 had lived too long with Mrs. Winslow to be
 
 176 
 
 DALLY 
 
 able at this late day to consider his soul as 
 his own particular property. 
 
 Even during her courtship, Marietta had 
 never failed in the ardor of her devotion to 
 Dally. She went so far as to tell her "beau " 
 that she did not love him so well as she did 
 Dally. At this information he laughed, hav- 
 ing the true masculine disbelief in one wom- 
 an's love for another. 
 
 Nevertheless, Marietta told the truth. Ever 
 since those days when Dally had shut Mrs. 
 Winslow.into the cellar, and Bill had made 
 his mother say she forgave the child, there 
 had been in Marietta's feelings towards the 
 Southern waif a fervor and passion and ro- 
 mance by the side of which her affection for 
 Theodore was somewhat prosaic, though it 
 was genuine affection all the same. 
 
 Young Graham, generally called " Thodor," 
 was such a good " ketch " that Mrs. Wins- 
 low now " knuckled," as she called it, a good 
 deal to the girl who had had the good fortune 
 to attract him. His father owned a large 
 farm over Farnham way, and he had only 
 this son, and no daughters. The Grahams 
 were always " likely " and always " scrab- 
 blin' " better still, they were " forehanded."
 
 DALLY 177 
 
 Thodor showed his good taste in fancying 
 Marietta, who had lost her freckles, and was 
 now almost brilliant -looking, with her big 
 eyes and her red, saucy mouth, and her ten- 
 dency to array herself becomingly. She did 
 not show any excessive joy when he spoke 
 to her, and that was an attraction. She even 
 dared to snub him sometimes. The novelty 
 of being snubbed was another attraction. In 
 these New England towns it is a melancholy 
 fact that young men are treated too well. 
 There are so few of them, comparatively, 
 that they are considered precious because 
 they are rare ; and they are admired accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 It was a mild day in October. It was 
 also Sunday, and young Graham had come 
 over early, that he might take Marietta to 
 drive in his new buggy. A buggy is a thing 
 that foreigners seem to consider particularly 
 American, and particularly improper, that is, 
 when occupied by a young man and a young 
 woman. 
 
 I am glad there was no foreigner, with his 
 
 note-book, near enough to see the occupants 
 
 of this buggy, for the note-book would surely 
 
 have contained the record of the fact that 
 
 12
 
 I 7 8 DALLY 
 
 the man's arm was about the woman's shoul- 
 ders. Think, then, of the inference also set 
 down, to be printed as soon as the traveller 
 could fly to his publisher think, I say, of 
 the inference in regard to the morals of Ran- 
 som ! 
 
 The horse was going a great deal at his 
 own will, cropping a mouthful of oak leaves 
 or a twig here and there by the wayside, 
 and zigzagging the carriage after him. 
 
 Marietta was looking absently along the 
 road. Theodore was looking at Marietta. 
 The highway, save for their presence, had 
 been entirely solitary since they entered 
 upon it. That this was its usual condi- 
 tion the grass each side of the horse 
 tracks showed. Possibly the young man 
 had chosen this direction for reasons of 
 this kind. 
 
 Marietta was just thinking that here was 
 the place where she and Dally had ridden 
 the bicycle when Mrs. Winslow was in the 
 cellar. Her eyes suddenly became fixed on 
 the farthest curve in the road, where a white 
 hound with large black patches upon it had 
 come into view, walking leisurely and snuff- 
 ing at different clumps of faded brakes.
 
 DALLY 
 
 179 
 
 Marietta sat straight, and surprise came 
 into her face. 
 
 " I do believe that's her hound !" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " It is certainly a hound," responded the 
 young man, a little irritated that a hound 
 should attract attention from him. 
 
 " And she's with him !" now cried Mari- 
 etta. " Le' me get out quick !" 
 
 The horse was pulled in, and, before Gra- 
 ham could help her, his companion was 
 on the ground and running rapidly towards 
 a figure which had now appeared round 
 the same curve from which the dog had 
 come. 
 
 The young man stood at his horse's head 
 and watched the two. The figure was that 
 of a girl who was very slender, very erect, 
 and who moved with a curious freedom 
 quite different from the movement of any 
 one he had ever seen. It was a motion as 
 free as the motion of an athletic young man 
 who never thinks of his own limbs ; but it 
 suggested nothing masculine. 
 
 He saw the two embrace with fervor 
 where they met, a few rods away. He heard 
 a voice say :
 
 180 DALLY 
 
 " I only came this noon. I could not wait 
 any longer to see you." 
 
 He heard Marietta cry out in fervent hap- 
 piness : 
 
 " Oh, Dally !" and saw her fling herself 
 again on her friend. 
 
 It was then that Graham exclaimed to 
 himself: " So that is Dally. She is kind of 
 different, that's a fact. But I can't see how 
 she looks, yet." 
 
 Presently the two girls came towards him. 
 Marietta introduced him to " Miss Jacobs." 
 Dally said she was very glad to know any 
 one whom Marietta loved. She said it so 
 simply that nobody blushed or was confused. 
 Dally glanced with searching intentness for 
 an instant at Graham, plainly to decide if he 
 were good enough for her friend. 
 
 And now Graham could see her face. 
 He thought he was a good judge in such 
 matters. He remembered to have heard 
 when a boy something about the " Widder 
 'Bijah Jacobs having took a poor gal from 
 Caroliny." When he had heard this fact 
 remarked upon he had, boy-like, instantly 
 formed an opinion. In spite of all Marietta 
 had said, he had held to that opinion ever
 
 DALLY l8l 
 
 since. He had made up his mind that the 
 child was a lying, underhanded, low-lived 
 thing in reality, no matter what she might 
 make people think she was. He had also 
 made up his mind that when Marietta was 
 once his wife, she should drop this acquaint- 
 ance. Being a shrewd youth, however, he 
 had kept this resolution to himself. 
 
 In truth, Dally had not grown into the 
 kind of young woman usually admired by 
 men. If she had been pretty as a child, she 
 was not so now. Her hair had retained its 
 almost ashen lightness and its tinge of yel- 
 low ; it was abundant and soft, and of that 
 kind which, as Marietta said, "was forever- 
 lastin'ly comin' down." Hair-pins did not 
 have sufficient power over it. If a woman 
 who has beautiful eyes cannot be what is 
 here called " homely," then Daily's face is 
 redeemed. But there is too much pathos 
 in these dusky brown eyes. And yet they 
 can sparkle. Her whole face can be almost 
 iridescent, like a child's countenance. But 
 it is the height of folly to try to describe 
 a face. Certainly Daily's features are not 
 describable it is only the Maud faces which 
 can be fitted with adjectives.
 
 182 DALLY 
 
 " How did your dog like New York ?" 
 asked Graham, as they all stood in the lone- 
 ly road. 
 
 Marietta was absorbed in gazing at her 
 friend and did not try to talk. 
 
 " My dog pined as I did," was the reply. 
 
 Marietta roused herself. 
 
 " I guess I shouldn't pine if I had a chance 
 to make a long visit in New York," she said. 
 " How's Mrs. Lander?" 
 
 " Better." 
 
 " Did she want to spare you ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 Dally turned and whistled to the hound, 
 who came in long lopes from across a mead- 
 ow, and who rapturously licked the hand 
 held out to him, and then sat down on his 
 haunches within touching distance of his 
 mistress. 
 
 "And you might have stopped longer?" 
 inquired Marietta, with incredulous won- 
 der. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Dally looked with intent, smiling eyes at 
 her friend. 
 
 " I'm a free creature," she said. " I can't 
 be shut up in a city. Besides," here her face
 
 DALLY 183 
 
 took on a curious, melting softness, "aunty 
 needs me, and I need her." 
 
 " She wants you, fast enough," returned 
 Marietta. " I've watched her at meet'n. She 
 has looked so solemn, sett'n in her pew all 
 alone. And I knew she was thinking of 
 you. She's always been bound up in you. 
 And no wonder!" 
 
 Marietta now exuberantly flung her arms 
 about Dally. 
 
 Graham turned away. 
 
 " This is mighty trying to a fellow stand- 
 ing by," he said, with a laugh. 
 
 Marietta looked at him round Daily's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " You'll have to put up with worse things 
 'n this," she said, gayly; "won't he, Dally?" 
 
 Dally turned her head, that she might give 
 a glance at the young man. 
 
 " That depends upon how bad he con- 
 siders this," she answered. 
 
 Graham's eyes sparkled. His rather heav- 
 ily moulded and too self-satisfied face was 
 animated. 
 
 " I consider it horrible," he answered, " for 
 a mere spectator." 
 
 Dally withdrew herself from Marietta.
 
 1 84 DALLY 
 
 "You must remember Marietta and I 
 have loved each other a good while," she 
 said, gravely, " and I have been away." 
 
 " I will go away that I may come back." 
 
 Graham looked at Marietta as he said 
 this, and she blushed, as was proper. She 
 also wondered a little to learn that Thodor 
 could speak in this manner. She didn't 
 think it was like him. But he rose in her 
 estimation. 
 
 After a few minutes Dally announced that 
 she must go on. Now she had seen Mari- 
 etta, she would not stop at the house, but 
 walk on to Mr. Dodson's to find Barker. 
 He did not know she had come home. 
 Aunty had told her Barker must be well, 
 for she had heard nothing to the contrary. 
 Did Marietta know anything about him ? 
 
 Marietta had seen Barker digging pota- 
 toes on the Dodson farm a week or two ago. 
 She had taken pains to stop and tell him 
 she had just heard from his sister. 
 
 "But I needn't have told him," said the 
 girl, indignantly, " for he never answered a 
 word. I don't believe he cares one way nor 
 the other." 
 
 Marietta said it was too far for Dally to
 
 DALLY 185 
 
 walk. They would all " squeeze into the 
 buggy, and Thodor should drive them." 
 
 Thodor said " certainly," and he assisted 
 the girls in, and then sat down gingerly and 
 uncomfortably between them. 
 
 The Dodson house and farm were a little 
 nearer "wrack 'n' ruin " than they had been 
 a few years before. Josephus Dodson still 
 drove the " deepo' wagon," and had no time 
 for anything else. He was just climbing 
 into that wagon, although it was Sunday, 
 when the buggy stopped and Dally came 
 towards him. 
 
 Before the girl could speak Mr. Dodson 
 informed her that he " was sure he didn't 
 know where Barker was ; he s'posed he was 
 lazing round somewhere." 
 
 Graham stood an instant with his foot on 
 the step of the buggy and his eyes on the 
 slim figure in its plain, clinging dark gown. 
 It was Mrs. Lander who had ordered that 
 gown, and it possessed all the perfection 
 which any raiment subject to her supervi- 
 sion must possess. 
 
 The grace of that figure seemed to be so 
 great that Graham could not remove his 
 glance from it. But he did take his place,
 
 186 DALLY 
 
 saying that Miss Jacobs was not what he 
 called pretty at all. 
 
 Marietta looked at him with some con- 
 tempt. 
 
 "Who said she was pretty?" she asked. 
 " She is worse V that. If you know her, 
 you can't forget her a minute." 
 
 Thodor did not appear to consider the 
 subject worth pursuing. He was very con- 
 versational on other topics, and remained 
 almost an hour later than usual that even- 
 ing, quite exerting himself to be entertain- 
 ing. 
 
 Dally had gone into the Dodson barn in 
 her search for Barker. She saw a thick-set, 
 undersized young man, or large boy, sitting 
 bent over something he held between his 
 knees. 
 
 Barker turned his head with apparent un- 
 willingness when he heard the girl's voice 
 pronounce his name. 
 
 " So you're thur, be yo' ?" he said. 
 
 He resumed his bending over a trap, as 
 Dally saw it was. Her heart began to have 
 that cold sinking to which it was accus- 
 tomed when in this presence. 
 
 She put her hand on his shoulder.
 
 DALLY 187 
 
 "Are you at all glad to see me?" she 
 asked, pathetically. 
 
 " Of co'se," he answered. But he was ab- 
 sorbed in the trap. 
 
 She sat down on a milking-stool. She 
 looked at him with such intenseness that 
 her features grew almost set. 
 
 With a quicker movement than was habit- 
 ual, Barker lifted his head, and his sullen eyes 
 fixed themselves o^n his sister's face. 
 
 He had never relinquished his dialect. 
 Dally had begun to drop it from the day 
 that Barker appeared. 
 
 " Do yo' want thur mountings ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I used to miss them," she answered, 
 much startled by his question. 
 
 " Used !" he repeated, scornfully but heav- 
 ily. 
 
 " I jest long fur thur mountings." 
 
 Dally rose quickly. She came close to 
 him. 
 
 " Barker," she said, breathlessly, " why 
 don't you come back to aunty's to live? 
 Why don't you care for me, or any- 
 thing ?" 
 
 Barker put down his trap and rose slowly.
 
 188 DALLY 
 
 He almost laughed as he turned his uncouth 
 frame towards his companion. 
 
 " I ain't no sech er fule as ter be er ear- 
 in'," he said. " I know er few things, I reck- 
 on." He picked up the box-trap. " Which 
 way d' yo' make out as thur mountings lay 
 from hyar?" 
 
 Dally pointed. Barker looked steadily at 
 her hand. Then he walked out of the barn 
 and down the lane behind it. 
 
 Daily's hound snuffed after his steps for a 
 few yards, then stood looking and growling 
 at the retreating form.
 
 XV 
 
 MARIETTA'S LOVER 
 
 THEODORE GRAHAM'S new horse 
 and buggy were standing in front 
 of the Winslow house. The young 
 man, in his best suit, had just run in to say 
 he was going to drive to Boston. He should 
 take an hour to go out to Cambridge and see 
 Bill. Had they any word to send ? 
 
 Immediately Mrs. Winslow began to gath- 
 er together a bundle of winter flannels for 
 the sacred person of her son. She did not 
 feel that she could trust him to buy them of 
 the precise quality best suited to his health. 
 She bustled about. She wondered if Tho- 
 dor would take a glass can of barberry pre- 
 serve without breaking the can. 
 
 Meanwhile Thodor was standing in the 
 little front entry with Marietta. It was 
 cold. It almost looked as if it might snow, 
 though it was still October. 
 
 " Reg'lar Thanksgiving weather," Mari-
 
 I go DALLY 
 
 etta said. Then she added that if mar 
 should be kind of decent, she meant to have 
 Dally there for Thanksgiving ; Dally and 
 the Widow 'Bijah, for it would be too bad 
 to separate them. And Bill, of course. A 
 real, old-fashioned time they meant to have 
 if only mar would be decent. But if Bill 
 came, things would be sure to be right." 
 
 "You don't seem to include me," re- 
 marked Graham, with a laugh. Marietta 
 thought he laughed a good deal that morn- 
 ing. 
 
 " You, of course," she answered. 
 
 He drew her closer. 
 
 "Why do you have any one but Bill and 
 me?" he asked. 
 
 " Don't you like Dally ?" inquired Mariet- 
 ta, beginning to bristle somewhat. " You've 
 seen her consid'able with me' in the last two 
 or three weeks." 
 
 Thodor bent down and kissed his ques- 
 tioner. He laughed again. It seemed to 
 his companion that his eyes were brighter 
 than she had ever seen them. His heavy 
 but manly face was animated. 
 
 " I'll bet you like her, after all !" she ex- 
 claimed.
 
 DALLY igi 
 
 Mrs. Winslow opened the door with her 
 roll of flannels and her jar of preserve. She 
 began to give directions to Thodor. No 
 one had a chance to say anything more, 
 for she completely occupied the time. The 
 colt sprang off down the white, dusty road. 
 Marietta stood for a moment looking after 
 the carriage, her arms rolled up in her big 
 apron. She shivered in the sharp air. 
 
 " There is certainly snow up to the north 
 of us," she said aloud. " I almost wish I'd 
 ben going in with Thodor. But then," with 
 a smile, " he didn't ask me." 
 
 She gave one more glance down the road 
 before going into the kitchen. This glance 
 showed her the top of a soft blue felt hat com- 
 ing down along the other side of the wall. 
 She knew the hat. Her face brightened. 
 She ran out and met Dally at the gate. 
 
 " Do come in !" cried Marietta, " mar's 
 awful cross to-day. The quince marmalade 
 ain't goin' right, and we've all got to ketch 
 it. Sence you've ben grown up she's ben 
 kind of 'fraid to go on so before you." 
 
 " I -was coming to see if she had half a 
 dozen quinces to spare aunty. We haven't 
 as many as we thought we had."
 
 I 9 2 DALLY 
 
 The two girls entered the house. A hot 
 odor of preserving grew stronger and strong- 
 er as they came to the kitchen. Mrs. Wins- 
 low was not there at the moment. Mariet- 
 ta sat down and resumed her work of peeling 
 pears. Dally stood leaning against the table, 
 watching the sharp knife go round the fruit. 
 
 " Mr. Graham came along just as I left 
 home, so he asked me to drive with him, as 
 he was coming this way. I had an errand 
 at Mrs. Bailey's and stopped there." 
 
 If there were anything in the least per- 
 functory in Daily's manner or voice as she 
 gave this information, it was not noticed. 
 
 Marietta exclaimed that she "hoped Tho- 
 dor was odd enough not to mention that he 
 had just seen Dally. And, come to think of 
 it, it was out of his way to come from Farn- 
 ham by the Widder "Bijah's." 
 
 " He may have had business on that 
 road," remarked Dally. 
 
 " Likely's not," was the careless response. 
 " He's always stopping at Tifft's Corners ; 
 I s'pose he stopped there this morning. 
 'Tain't no matter, anyway." 
 
 " No," said Dally. " Do you think your 
 mother can spare the quinces ?"
 
 DALLY 193 
 
 She came close to Marietta as she asked 
 the question, and placed her hand on her 
 shoulder. There are a few people whose 
 slight touch is a potent caress. 
 
 Marietta looked up, and her eyes met the 
 eyes of her friend intently for an instant. 
 She put out a fruit-stained hand and asked 
 impulsively : 
 
 " Dally, what troubles you ? And you're 
 pale." 
 
 " Perhaps I am pale, but I'm perfectly 
 well. There comes your mother." 
 
 She drew back quickly. She did not lin- 
 ger after Mrs. Winslow's entrance. In five 
 minutes more she was walking homeward 
 with a small paper bag of quinces, and Sam, 
 the hound, was running by her side. 
 
 Marietta was tempted to leave her work 
 and go "part way," as of old, with her; but 
 she knew her mother would not allow that. 
 So she sat and peeled and quartered pears, 
 and wondered why there had been that look 
 in Daily's eyes. She did not understand it 
 at all, and she could not get it out of her 
 mind. 
 
 Outside, the day grew more and more 
 leaden, like a gloomy bit from November. 
 13
 
 194 
 
 DALLY 
 
 Sometimes the clouds would part in the 
 sullen wind, and permit a pale ray to come 
 down to the earth. 
 
 Along the roads that wound through high 
 pastures, where the barberries were still red 
 on some bushes, then down between mead- 
 ows or cedar swamps, the colt was carrying 
 the new buggy and his master towards Bos- 
 ton. 
 
 Almost into the teeth of the northeast 
 wind the young man was driving. His gray 
 ulster was pulled up to his ears and his cap 
 drawn forward. He sat upright ; and if the 
 spirited young animal lagged, he slapped the 
 lines on its back, and cried out almost fero- 
 ciously at it. 
 
 Marietta would not have thought his eyes 
 sparkling now. Instead, they had something 
 sullenly ferocious in them, and his mouth 
 was shut hard, making his face very un- 
 pleasantly square. 
 
 When he had driven ten miles thus, and 
 his horse was steaming and heaving, he met 
 a man jogging along in an old wagon. The 
 man raised his hand imperatively and Gra- 
 ham pulled the lines. The colt stood quiv- 
 ering.
 
 DALLY 195 
 
 "Young man, you're killing your horse," 
 was the stern remark. " You ought to be 
 arrested." 
 
 Graham looked at the beast, which was 
 shaking between the shafts. 
 
 " I'm a brute !" he exclaimed. " Serve me 
 right to be shut up." 
 
 His face relaxed. The stranger looked at 
 him as if wondering if it were safe that he 
 should be at large. 
 
 As his horse now walked slowly on, Gra- 
 ham leaned back in his seat. Sometimes he 
 would say aloud, as though it were a relief 
 to him to speak and hear his own voice : 
 
 " Yes, I'm a brute, every way a brute." 
 
 William Winslow was walking hurriedly 
 across the campus when he saw Graham 
 coming towards him. His first thought was 
 one of anxiety. 
 
 " All right at home ?" he called out before 
 they met. 
 
 " All right a few hours ago, when I saw 
 your folks," was the answer. 
 
 Then the two shook hands. 
 
 " But what in the world has happened to 
 you, Graham? Have you chopped off some- 
 body's head and come to confess to me?"
 
 196 DALLY 
 
 Winslow, still retaining his companion's 
 hand, pulled him around so that the light 
 fell more fully upon him. Graham met the 
 looks somewhat defiantly. 
 
 After an instant he abruptly withdrew his 
 hand and asked if he could see Winslow 
 where there "wouldn't be any cursed inter- 
 ruptions." 
 
 Winslow's face became very grave imme- 
 diately. 
 
 "We'll go to my room," he said; " I don't 
 think any interruptions will get through my 
 locked door." 
 
 When the two were in the room, Winslow 
 stood by the mantel and watched his guest. 
 He did not choose to hurry him by asking 
 questions. With every moment that passed 
 he grew more and more apprehensive, but 
 he had no idea what he feared. 
 
 Winslow had grown to be a tall, slender 
 man with a thin face, lighted by extremely 
 brilliant and expressive eyes. These eyes 
 were searching as well as brilliant. Perhaps 
 his mouth was somewhat too full, but the 
 breadth of his forehead and his thinness and 
 pallor gave a suggestion of asceticism. 
 
 Just at this moment he might have re-
 
 DALLY 197 
 
 minded one of a young monk as he stood 
 there looking at the other occupant of the 
 chamber. Graham had sat down in a chair, 
 thrust out his legs, and was now gazing at 
 his boots. 
 
 Finally he looked up. He smiled, be- 
 cause it is rather a habit for human beings 
 to smile when they address each other. 
 
 " I guess you begin to think I'm half 
 drunk," he said, rather foolishly. He al- 
 most wished he had not come. A man al- 
 ways lost ground, somehow, if he didn't 
 keep things to himself. You had to live 
 up to a confidence some way. 
 
 " I don't think you are drunk at all," was 
 the answer. 
 
 Graham got upon his feet. He looked 
 fiercely about him. 
 
 " It gives a man a queer feeling to find 
 he's a scamp," he said. 
 
 " Do you find you are one?" 
 
 Instead of replying, Graham took sharp 
 hold of Winslow's arm. 
 
 " Winslow," he said, " was you ever in 
 love ? Don't you say anything yet ! I 
 don't mean that you liked a girl first-rate 
 and thought she'd suit you. Had an affec-
 
 198 DALLY 
 
 tion for her prettiest one you'd seen 
 guessed she'd make a good wife thought 
 you loved her. I don't mean any of that 
 rot. I mean this "^-here he unconsciously 
 shook the arm he held " Did you ever live 
 sleep eat drink speak in just one 
 thought not know anything but one feel- 
 ing be drunk with it long to drive it 
 away, but yet wouldn't give it up on any 
 account ? Hug it hate it ? Good God ! 
 Do you know anything about what I 
 mean?" 
 
 Graham's words stumbled over each other. 
 His eyes blazed. His face was red. 
 
 He dropped the arm he had held and 
 stood with his hands clenched and hang- 
 ing. 
 
 His listener had become yet paler as he 
 heard, and had compressed his lips. 
 
 " I understand," he said, after a long si- 
 lence, " that it's not so you feel to my sis- 
 ter." 
 
 "No! no!" said Graham. "You see, I'm 
 a scamp. And the worst of it is, I'd rather 
 be a scamp and be damned than give up 
 this. I don't know myself. I didn't know 
 'twas in me."
 
 DALLY 199 
 
 He did not speak so violently now, but 
 with bitter emphasis. 
 
 Winslow remained rigidly quiet in his po- 
 sition by the mantel. 
 
 " And the woman " he began, in a lower 
 voice than usual. 
 
 Graham laughed, as men will sometimes 
 laugh when they would rather give a cry of 
 anguish. 
 
 " The woman hasn't got an idea anything 
 about it," he said, " so far's I know. I haven't 
 said a word. Of course she don't guess." 
 
 " Of course she does guess," interrupted 
 Winslow. " Do you imagine you have had 
 all this in your heart and haven't revealed 
 any hint of it so that she would know ? Wom- 
 en aren't so stupid as we are. What does 
 Marietta say?" 
 
 "Say? Do you think anything has been 
 said? She hasn't a suspicion, I tell you. She's 
 too honest, too true 
 
 He stopped suddenly, and turned away. 
 After a while he added, in a thick voice : 
 " We're to be married New Year's, you know." 
 
 Graham sat down now, and leaned both 
 arms on the table, bending his forehead to 
 his hands.
 
 200 DALLY 
 
 He had not told who it was who had in- 
 spired this madness in him. He had not 
 been asked. He could not recognize him- 
 self. Three weeks ago he had been comfort- 
 able and contented, and had supposed he 
 was " in love " with Marietta. 
 
 How true it is that there is in each human 
 being a "great deal of unmapped country" 
 of which we have never dreamed ! True, 
 also, that no temptation, no circumstance, 
 will ever bring out that which is not really 
 in us, dormant, but waiting the touch. And 
 many natures are never half awakened, either 
 in evil or good. 
 
 Winslow, at last, left his position. He 
 walked silently about the room. Occasion- 
 ally he touched a book or a paper on his 
 study table, not knowing that he did so. 
 He read carefully a few lines of memoranda 
 he had pencilled on a pad, and tried to know 
 what they meant. 
 
 He came back to the mantel, and resumed 
 his attitude there. 
 
 "Why did you tell me this?" he inquired, 
 rather coldly. 
 
 Graham started. 
 
 "Why?" he repeated, blankly.
 
 DALLY 20i 
 
 "Yes; why?" 
 
 " I don't know," furiously, " only that I'm 
 a fool 's well as a knave." 
 
 "You needn't be angry with me," said 
 Winslow. " I mean, what is to be the up- 
 shot of it all? Do you want advice from 
 me?" 
 
 " Nobody follows advice ; but give it, all 
 the same," Graham answered. 
 
 " You know my sister is the right kind of 
 stuff," said Winslow. 
 
 " I know it.". 
 
 " Tell her all about it. Put it strong, as 
 you have to me. Do as she says." 
 
 Graham's eyes began to glow with hope 
 as well as with other emotions. 
 
 " She'll tell me to go. She'll settle it quick," 
 he said. " But " hesitating " nothing '11 
 clear me. It won't be an easy thing to do." 
 
 "You're not in an easy place." 
 
 Something in Winslow's tone made Gra- 
 ham exclaim : 
 
 "You think I'm weak? Remember, no 
 soul but you suspects this." 
 
 After a short time longer, during which 
 very little more was said, Graham turned 
 towards the door. He could hardly tell
 
 202 DALLY 
 
 whether he had done well in coming here. 
 He stood with his back against the wall, and 
 looked at his friend. 
 
 "You see," he began, abruptly, " Marietta 
 loves her. She said one thing about her that 
 hasn't been out of my mind. She said, 'If you 
 know Dally you can't forget her a minute.' 
 Odd, wasn't it? But true as death. You 
 can't forget her a minute. Anyway, I can't. 
 And I've done nothing but try since the mo- 
 ment I met her with her hound on that old 
 Blake road. Marietta and I were driving 
 there one Sunday afternoon, and Dally came 
 round the corner. She had just got back 
 from Mrs. Lander's in New York. Mrs. Lan- 
 der has tried to have the girl live with her, 
 but Dally says she loves Mrs. Jacobs, and 
 loves the country too well. That's queer, 
 too. Most girls would jump out of their 
 skins at the chance that New York woman 
 gives her. She isn't like any one else. She 
 is but you know her, of course, Winslow." 
 
 "Yes, I know her." 
 
 The answer came promptly. Presently 
 Winslow added that he had known Dally 
 since she had first come to Ransom. 
 
 Graham nodded, He was. feeling a reac-
 
 DALLY 203 
 
 tion and a relief from the mood which had 
 dominated him. A grateful sense of expan- 
 sion came to him since he had spoken free- 
 ly to Marietta's brother. He would have 
 changed his mind about going and remained 
 to talk further, but Winslow said he had an 
 engagement at just this coming hour. 
 
 Graham set out to walk back to Boston. 
 For some reason he did not feel himself near- 
 ly as much of a villain as when he had driven 
 into town.
 
 XVI 
 
 THODOR'S CONFESSION 
 
 JRAHAM walked vigorously back to 
 Boston. As he thought of his inter- 
 view with Winslow, he rather won- 
 dered that his friend had not seemed more 
 moved. He had expected more indignation 
 and more sympathy. 
 
 " He's a cold-blooded kind of a fellow, any- 
 way," he said to himself, with something like 
 a feeling of pride that he himself was not 
 cold-blooded ; he was capable of being car- 
 ried away on the flood -tide of a passion. 
 How intoxicating, how bewitching it all was ! 
 And what a bewildering zest the under-cur- 
 rent of wickedness gave ! The pendulum of 
 his emotions was now swinging away from 
 the agony of remorse which had possessed 
 him as he drove into town. 
 
 He fell to thinking of the few moments 
 when Dally had sat beside him in the buggy 
 that morning. He had been quite noble, he
 
 DALLY 205 
 
 thought, in always restraining all hint of 
 what he felt, while he was engaged to Mari- 
 etta. 
 
 The complications, the different phases in 
 one human being, are astounding. You might 
 have said that Graham was a different man 
 from that person who had nearly killed his 
 horse by overdriving that morning, and in 
 whom temptation and remorse were fighting. 
 But. this was only another side of him. 
 
 He strolled round in Boston streets. He 
 looked in at shop-windows. He selected a 
 hundred of the richest things he saw, and 
 imagined himself presenting them to Dally 
 as insufficient tokens of what she had in- 
 spired in him. 
 
 He lingered until night came. Instead of 
 starting homeward, he went to a play, and 
 sat through the whole of it, seeing Dally in 
 every face, and hearing her voice in every 
 tone. His being off alone in this way seemed 
 like some desperate measure which made the 
 girl nearer to him, or like some reckless de- 
 bauch which, for the time, deadened all the 
 feelings which made him unhappy. 
 
 When, a little before midnight, he started 
 home, the colt went like a sprite along the
 
 206 DALLY 
 
 streets out into the long, white road which 
 stretched away into the country. It was 
 good wheeling. The excoriating northeast 
 wind had died away, the clouds had gone, and 
 the sky was full of stars. The " Big Dipper" 
 was hanging low down at his right. Clear 
 and frosty and invigorating the night was. 
 There were almost thirty miles between Gra- 
 ham and his home. He would not be there 
 before three, for the colt could not keep up 
 this gait. 
 
 At first the young man dozed a little, 
 wrapped up in the corner of the seat. But 
 when he was within ten miles of Farnham he 
 was fully awake, and thinking those miles 
 would be very long. Houses and barns stood 
 lifeless here and there. Not a light, not a 
 movement. Sometimes a dog's bark sounded. 
 
 There was a light, however, near a long, 
 low hen-house ; a place Graham knew very 
 well, and where he often came for finer breeds 
 of fowl. The colt was walking. His driver 
 leaned far out to look. In the thick dark- 
 ness of a clump of young pines he stopped 
 the horse, sprang out, and hitched him to a 
 branch. 
 
 There had been a great many fowls stolen
 
 DALLY 207 
 
 in different places within the last few months, 
 and the Graham hen-house had suffered. 
 The selectmen of Ransom had sufficiently 
 roused themselves to offer a reward of one 
 hundred dollars for the taking of the thief. 
 
 Graham went silently and swiftly forward 
 over the " mowing" towards the small bull's- 
 eye lantern which some one was carrying. 
 The light fell here and there in a confusing 
 way. 
 
 Suddenly the light was extinguished. Gra- 
 ham stood still, thinking he had been seen 
 or heard. No. Presently he heard footsteps 
 coming towards him, and his eyes had now 
 adjusted themselves to the dusky starlight. 
 
 There was somebody, with a bag swung 
 over his back making for the road. The fig- 
 ure came straight ahead. 
 
 Graham stepped forward, and put a heavy 
 hand on the shoulder nearest him. 
 
 " Hullo, old cove! I guess I've got ye," 
 Graham said. 
 
 Then he shrank a little, but he did not let 
 go his hold. The figure remained perfectly 
 quiet, with that stolid effect as if it were a 
 lump of wood. 
 
 It was Barker.
 
 208 DALLY 
 
 Graham could have sworn at himself for 
 his folly in trying to catch this creature. But 
 how was he to know that it was Daily's broth- 
 er who was thieving ? 
 
 If Barker were going to carry on this busi- 
 ness, he (Graham) would far rather be igno- 
 rant of it. 
 
 " So it's you, is it, confound you !" he 
 cried, shaking the shoulder he held. " Take 
 back your chickens 'n' ride home with 
 me." 
 
 He began pushing Barker ahead of him. 
 That person writhed somewhat, and said, 
 sullenly: 
 
 " I kin walk home." 
 
 " I know it ; but you sha'n't walk. You've 
 got to empty that bag and come along." 
 
 The youth writhed again, but he perceived 
 that it would be useless to resist. He had 
 to leave the fowls. He also had to get into 
 the buggy and sit beside Graham, whose fin- 
 gers tingled to thrash him, and who was also 
 conscious of a strange mixture of tenderness 
 and pity, for the sole reason that this thief 
 was Daily's brother. He resented this feel- 
 ing, but he could not get rid of it. 
 
 "So it's you, is it?" he said again, after
 
 DALLY 2Og 
 
 they had driven half a mile. "You know 
 where our hens and turkeys go?" 
 
 Barker grunted. This was the first time 
 he had come upon any real obstacle in his 
 career. He did not appear to have mind 
 enough to be sly, but still he was as cunning 
 as any beast which is bent upon having its 
 own way. He was dully furious now. But 
 he sat bent forward, and did not look at his 
 companion. It was curious what an infuri- 
 ating effect this vicious inertness, which was 
 one of Barker's characteristics, often had 
 upon one thrown in contact with him. 
 
 For a moment Graham believed he could 
 not resist the impulse to fling the vermin 
 out over the wheel. He heartily wished he 
 had not stopped when he saw that lantern 
 light. 
 
 " I asked if it's you that's been stealing," 
 repeated Graham, violently. 
 
 " Do you-uns reckon 's I'm er gwine ter 
 tell ?" at last responded Barker, hitching 
 somewhat on his seat. 
 
 Graham tried to restrain the manifestation 
 of his annoyance. He thought he would 
 have given a great many dollars if Barker 
 had been nothing to that girl. 
 14
 
 210 DALLY 
 
 " No," he said ; " I don't reckon you're 
 going to tell." 
 
 Nothing more was said until they had 
 reached a point nearest the Dodson farm. 
 Here Graham stopped his horse, and told 
 his passenger to get out. Barker did not 
 stir, save to raise his head and turn his eyes 
 towards the young man's face. It was too 
 dark to see very plainly. 
 
 " What do you want ?" roughly asked 
 Graham. 
 
 " I war jest er gwine ter say as Dally 'd 
 feel mighty bad if yo' should be gwine ter 
 tell er this." 
 
 Graham felt sick. He swore at the thing 
 near him. 
 
 "Get out, you wretch !" he exclaimed. " Of 
 course I sha'n't tell." 
 
 Barker climbed out. He grasped the wheel 
 when he stood on the ground. 
 
 " I mout er known yo' wouldn't tell," he 
 said, " 'cos of Dally, yo' know." 
 
 He walked away. 
 
 " Look out, or you'll get hauled up by 
 somebody that will tell I" shouted Graham 
 after him. Then he whipped his horse 
 that he might the faster put space between
 
 DALLY 211 
 
 him and Barker, who trudged on with his 
 empty bag, a fire of hatred and revenge 
 smouldering in his darkened consciousness. 
 He was shrewd enough to be sure that this 
 meeting would not lead to discovery. But 
 he resented it all the same. He had been 
 made to take back his plunder. He was 
 making a little hoard of money. He knew 
 where to dispose of his stolen fowls, It was 
 a secret satisfaction to him as he slouched 
 about the Dodson farm to know all the time 
 that he had a bag of money hidden in the 
 barn-cellar ; and to know, also, that he had 
 never been caught in his thefts. He gloated 
 over the money and the way he got it. He 
 bore Mrs. Dodson's constant scoldings in 
 dumbness. Nevertheless, as he often told 
 himself, he meant to pay that woman off. It 
 suited him to stay there far better than it 
 had suited him at Mrs. Jacobs's. He never 
 went near the widow's. Dally came to see 
 him. He wondered why she would come. 
 He was in a good many places unsuspected ; 
 he saw a good many things which one would 
 not have dreamed he saw. Meanwhile he 
 did enough work for the Dodsons to be sure 
 of staying there as long as he pleased ; par-
 
 212 DALLY 
 
 ticularly as he never asked for any wages or 
 for any more clothes than they gave him. 
 Mrs. Dodson believed she controlled him, 
 and he was willing she should continue in 
 that belief. 
 
 The rest of the week went by, and Mari- 
 etta began to wonder why Thodor did not 
 call. She had not seen him since the day 
 he had stopped on his way to Boston. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow made herself agreeable by 
 frequently remarking that no young man 
 would ever have dared to slight her so ; and 
 she wondered if Thodor had given them 
 things to William. It would be jest like 
 him if he hadn't thought a word of it. If 
 William took his death-a-cold for lack of them 
 flannels, it would be Thodor's fault. 
 
 Mr. Winslow made things worse by advis- 
 ing his wife not to fret. He s'posed Thodor 
 was busy. Upon this he was asked if he 
 enjoyed seeing his only daughter slighted, 
 and his son likely 's not having pneumonia. 
 As for her part, she had some feelin' ; she 
 had a mother's heart. 
 
 At this stage of the discourse Mr. Wins- 
 low so far forgot himself as to say, " Oh, 
 Lord !" Then Marietta looked reproach-
 
 DALLY 213 
 
 fully at him, and pressed his foot under the 
 table as she passed him the hot biscuit. He 
 dejectedly took a biscuit. Marietta said 
 briskly that for her part she wasn't worried 
 one grain about Thodor. She guessed he'd 
 turn up all right. If he didn't, they'd all 
 try to bear it. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow now announced that if Mari- 
 etta could bear the disgrace of gittin' the 
 mitten from her beau, and she er fixin', why, 
 her mother couldn't. And she began to eat 
 crusts with marked ostentation a sure sign 
 of a serious storm brewing. 
 
 Marietta followed her father to the wood- 
 house after supper to tell him that if Thodor 
 let another day go by without calling, she 
 should have to send for him, just to pacify 
 mar. 
 
 Mr. Winslow leaned on his axe and looked 
 at the girl. 
 
 " There ain't nothin' amiss between you 
 'n' him, is there?" he asked. 
 
 " Not a thing," she answered. " It's often 
 been as long as this without his coming." 
 
 Her father shook his head. " We couldn't 
 live here with yer mar," he said, emphati- 
 cally, " not if Thodor stopped coming."
 
 214 DALLY 
 
 Marietta laughed. Nevertheless she was 
 glad when, in the evening, she heard the 
 well-known trot of the colt. Mrs. Winslow 
 heard it, too. She rose from where she was 
 stringing apples to dry, and said she would 
 immediately light a fire in the air-tight. This 
 fire in the air-tight in the sitting-room was 
 always ignited in honor of Graham. If Mrs. 
 Winslow had not approved of him, her fam- 
 ily felt that it would have been almost im- 
 possible to have had that fire. 
 
 Now, by the time the young man had put 
 his horse in the barn and tucked the blanket 
 on him, the sheet-iron stove was almost red 
 hot. 
 
 Marietta greeted him as usual. When he 
 came forward into the light, and had taken 
 off his great-coat, she asked him if he had 
 been sick. He looked so. Had anything 
 happened ? 
 
 He stood in the middle of the room. His 
 face was careworn and resolved. He took 
 Marietta's hands and drew her nearer. 
 
 " When I was here last I made up my 
 mind I would not come again until I could 
 tell you something that's on my conscience 
 that you ought to know. I thought I should
 
 DALLY 
 
 215 
 
 see you the next day after I'd been to Bos- 
 ton, but I couldn't quite do it. You see, I 
 hung back like a coward." 
 
 He felt the girl stiffen a little as she lis- 
 tened. But she kept her honest eyes on his 
 face while he spoke. 
 
 " If it's something I ought to know, tell 
 me right away," she said. 
 
 He hesitated. It is hard to tell a woman 
 who expects to be your wife that you love 
 some one else better. 
 
 She saw the intensity of his unhappiness, 
 and she also became pale. 
 
 " Can I help you any ?" she asked. 
 
 "How can any one help me?" he cried. 
 " I am dishonest ! I love some one else. I 
 could not help it. It sprang on me like a 
 wild beast ! It would have me ! Don't think 
 I yielded without a struggle !" 
 
 He still kept fast hold of her hands, and 
 she was obliged to stand there before him. 
 She was now quite white. It was a moment 
 before she said : 
 
 " It is Dally." 
 
 " It is Dally," he repeated, with a great 
 gentleness. 
 
 Marietta succeeded in releasing her hands.
 
 216 DALLY 
 
 She clasped them together. She recalled 
 with a piercing thrill the expression that had 
 been in Daily's eyes that morning when Gra- 
 ham had gone to Boston. Not one shadow 
 of suspicion concerning her friend crossed 
 Marietta's loyal heart. But perhaps Dally 
 loved Graham perhaps Marietta tried to 
 shut her mind to all suppositions. 
 
 "You blame me?" humbly said Graham. 
 
 His companion now looked fully at him. 
 But her voice, when she spoke, was not as 
 steady as her glance. 
 
 " Blame you or any one for loving Dal- 
 ly?" she said. "Oh, no! How could you 
 help it? How could you help it? Oh, I 
 love her so much myself!" 
 
 She turned away and sat down, covering 
 her face with her hands. Mingled with her 
 own personal emotions was a wild thought 
 of her brother. What did he now think of 
 Dally? He had never told her. She did 
 not know but that he had forgotten her since 
 he had been at college. She was sure that, 
 as a boy, he had a strong affection for her. 
 But boys change so. She had sometimes 
 fancied he had seen some one else ; she had 
 never had his confidence in this direction.
 
 DALLY 217 
 
 He would not have told any one. Always, 
 when he came home, he visited Dally. But 
 that went for nothing, for they were old 
 friends. That fact did not make against his 
 having forgotten her in the sense Marietta 
 had in mind. 
 
 She tried to think clearly. It was all over 
 now between herself and Thodor. That was 
 clear enough.
 
 XVII 
 
 THE TWO GIRLS 
 
 'IMPS to me," said Mrs. Winslow 
 the next morning at breakfast 
 " simps to me Thodor didn't stay's 
 long's usual last night, Marietta. I heerd 
 him git out his hoss 'n' go away. I didn't 
 sleep a wink myself, anyhow." 
 
 Mrs. Winslow was not now eating crusts, 
 but partaking freely of the best there was 
 on the table. The fact that her daughter's 
 beau had resumed his visits in some myste- 
 rious way released her from the necessity of 
 chewing crusts for nourishment. 
 
 Marietta did not reply. She industriously 
 and silently stirred her coffee. Her father 
 looked at her anxiously. He tried to re- 
 strain any comments until he and she should 
 be in the wood-house. 
 
 " I didn't sleep a wink myself," repeated 
 Mrs. Winslow, in an aggressive tone. The 
 inference to be drawn from her manner was
 
 DALLY 2ig 
 
 that if Mr. Graham had made a visit of the 
 customary length, she should have enjoyed 
 her customary repose. 
 
 " I wish you'd pass me the bacon," said 
 Mr. Winslow, in a melancholy voice. 
 
 His wife passed him the bacon. As she 
 set the dish down rather emphatically on 
 the table again, she remarked that " Mari- 
 etta didn't look's if she'd slept a wink, 
 nuther." 
 
 The girl flushed sensitively as she protest- 
 ed that she was as well as she had ever been 
 in her life. Again her father looked at her, 
 and again he wished they were in the wood- 
 house, so that he might try to comfort her 
 if she were in trouble. 
 
 No one noticed the proclamation of the 
 fact that Mrs. Winslow had not slept. She 
 was in the habit of asserting that she had 
 not closed her eyes during all the dark hours. 
 Mr. Winslow had been known to make the 
 counter-assertion that " at any rate, she had 
 snored awfully." But he was always sorry 
 when he had been so indiscreet. 
 
 When they rose from the table, instead 
 of beginning to gather the dishes together, 
 as was her custom, Marietta said she was
 
 220 DALLY 
 
 going to run over and see Dally a few min- 
 utes. She did not ask permission. She 
 quickly put on a jacket and hat. 
 
 Her mother stared in astonishment. She 
 said : " The work wa'n't done up yet." 
 
 " Let the work stand," said Marietta, and 
 walked out of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow told her husband that " she 
 didn't know what she'd done to have such a 
 gal's that ; Marietta was jest like her father. 
 But William took after his mother's side of 
 the house." 
 
 As soon as he dared, Mr. Winslow went 
 to the barn. He saw his girl walking rapidly 
 across the upland pasture through which a 
 path led " across" to Mrs. Jacobs's house. 
 She was almost running. 
 
 The man watched her until she had reached 
 the ridge and disappeared below it. 
 
 He turned heavily towards the barn. 
 
 " It's goin' to be awful tough here when 
 she's married," he said, in a loud whisper. 
 " I d' know how I'm goin' to stan' it." 
 
 Marietta actually broke into a run as she 
 went down the slope. The brown sweet- 
 fern, which she crushed beneath her feet, 
 sent up its odor; the juniper bushes gave
 
 DALLY 221 
 
 forth their perfume, which always made the 
 girl think of the old gin-bottle in the kitchen 
 closet, although she did not know that juni- 
 per berries were ever put into gin. It was 
 yet too early in the morning for the late 
 October mist to have left the meadows and 
 low places, but the sun was shining through 
 it, and it was growing less and less dense. 
 The crows were flying " flying to the left," 
 thought the girl, recalling the saying that 
 when crows fly to the left it is a sign of bad 
 luck. The chickadees were calling. Mari- 
 etta had a dim sense that the world was 
 lovely and full of promise. 
 
 When she had started she felt that she 
 could not reach her destination quickly 
 enough. Now, when she saw the roof of the 
 widow's house, she began to move more 
 slowly. She was panting. Her mind was 
 confused. She wondered what she should 
 say to Dally. Though she had hastened, 
 now she shrank. 
 
 She leaned against a chestnut-tree and 
 tried to become composed. Her heart was 
 very sore. She wished she might see Bill a 
 few moments. It might be a comfort to see 
 him. If her mother were only different!
 
 222 DALLY 
 
 But, as her father so often said, her mother 
 " was jes' 's she was." 
 
 As Marietta stood thus, she saw Dally and 
 the hound come round from the back of the 
 house. Dally had no covering for her head. 
 She had evidently come out for a moment 
 to look about over the hills, and see the mist 
 and the sunlight. Her hair was loosely fas- 
 tened, as usual. The morning light shone 
 on it and made it radiant. Marietta was 
 near enough to see her friend's face, and the 
 sight of it gave her heart that throb of almost 
 impassioned tenderness which was so ready 
 to be awakened by this presence. 
 
 Did Dally guess what she had always been 
 to Marietta? The New England girl's life 
 had been in a measure restricted and meagre. 
 She turned thirstily from the very first to 
 Dally, who suggested vividly the dreams 
 and the enchantment which are the birth- 
 right of youth, though the youth of many is 
 so austere as to be deprived of such romance. 
 
 No one else had ever caressed Marietta as 
 Dally had done, and Marietta felt that she 
 could have received such caresses from no 
 one else. For her they were a part of Daily's 
 personality.
 
 DALLY 223 
 
 Now, as she looked down at the girl and 
 her dog, in the bitterness that was natural 
 in such a position as hers, there was still her 
 love for Dally. But there was bitterness. 
 Why had such a thing happened to her? 
 She had looked forward with satisfaction 
 and happiness to a home with Graham. She 
 should make him an excellent wife; they 
 would have a pleasant home ; the arrange- 
 ment was precisely right in every way. But 
 now she was rejected, and rejected because 
 of that girl who was standing there with the 
 October sunlight on her, with the dog who 
 seemed so joyous just to be with her. 
 
 If it had not been a grand passion she felt 
 for her lover, Marietta was convinced that it 
 was something which justified her in thinking 
 of marriage with him. She must bear that 
 disappointment, besides the wound to her 
 vanity, and it is surprising how deep a hurt 
 one may receive simply through one's vanity. 
 
 When Dally had gone into the house, Mari- 
 etta slowly climbed the wall and crossed the 
 road. Sam, who had remained outside, gave 
 a bark of welcome. Immediately the porch 
 door was opened by the Widder 'Bijah, who 
 had grown a little heavier and her hair a little
 
 224 DALLY 
 
 thinner in the passing years. But she looked 
 happier than she had ever looked. She had 
 gradually increased her monthly contribution 
 to foreign missions. She bought more tick- 
 ets for all the entertainments to raise money 
 to get the church painted or to procure a 
 new organ. She had paupers, who thought 
 they needed a change from the poorhouse, 
 to stop with her for a week at a time, oftener 
 than used to be her custom. Children found 
 her even more generous with cookies and 
 apples than in former times. 
 
 " If I can't do a hand's turn for anybody," 
 she said, " I must be a ruther mean specimen. 
 I've been blessed mightily." 
 
 She would look at Dally as she said this, 
 and Daily's glance in return repaid for all. 
 
 The widow had not been called upon to 
 endure the trial of seeing Dally taken to 
 New York by Mrs. Lander, and so being lost 
 to her country home. Mrs. Lander had tried 
 to take her, but Dally had resisted so strenu- 
 ously that the lady could not have her way 
 in this. 
 
 Two or three times, when Mrs. Lander had 
 been in feeble health, the girl had stayed 
 with her for several months, and had not yet
 
 DALLY 
 
 225 
 
 outgrown the charm which this woman 
 always exercised over her. But there was 
 something of the savage in the Southern girl, 
 something which was fretted and chafed by 
 what seemed to her the imprisonment of life 
 in a city, and her love and gratitude to Mrs. 
 Jacobs clamored for her return to her home. 
 No other place was home to her. The sim- 
 plicity and singleness of her nature made it 
 impossible for any roots to strike into other 
 soil. 
 
 Marietta entered the kitchen, which 
 seemed very warm to her after her run 
 across the pasture. The room also had a 
 strong odor of coffee and sausages. In a 
 corner by the cook-stove sat an old woman, 
 whose head trembled all the time, and who, 
 when she inquired after the girl's mother, 
 laughed a good deal. She laughed a good 
 deal every time she made any remarks ; and 
 as she made remarks almost constantly, she 
 was a very confusing member of a family 
 circle. This was "Old Aunt Judson," whose 
 habitual dwelling was the almshouse, but 
 who was now in the second week of a visit 
 to the widow. 
 
 After she had asked for Mrs. Winslow she 
 15
 
 226 DALLY 
 
 gave a more than usually significant giggle, 
 and said she " s'posed Marietty hadn't got 
 through fixin' yet." 
 
 " No, ma'am," said Marietta, and hurried- 
 ly turned to ask for Dally. 
 
 But old Aunt Judson went on to say that 
 she considered that Marietta " had got one 
 er the best ketches anywheres about." She 
 counselled her "to hold on to him." She 
 began to enter garrulously into a descrip- 
 tion, garnished by much laughter, of what a 
 "ketch" Joe Judson had been considered 
 when she married him, " more'n fifty year 
 ago." 
 
 What with laughing and trembling and 
 eagerness to talk about " beaux," this pau- 
 per gave Marietta a feeling that she must 
 turn and run out of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs had opened a door into "a 
 chamber-way " and called " Dally !" up the 
 stairs, and the girl appeared almost imme- 
 diately. 
 
 She glanced at Marietta, then said she 
 must come to her room, she was just mak- 
 ing her bed. 
 
 Once in the room, with the door shut be- 
 hind them, Dally led Marietta to a quaintly-
 
 DALLY 227 
 
 draped " barrel chair " by the window, and 
 as her guest sat down in it, Dally knelt at 
 her side. 
 
 Marietta suddenly bent her head forward 
 on her friend's shoulder and exclaimed : 
 
 " He told me last night !" Daily's eyes 
 seemed to suffuse, not with tears, but with 
 some sharp emotion. She became red, then 
 white. 
 
 She did not ask what he had told. She 
 sat quite still, pressing Marietta's head to 
 her shoulder and resting her cheek on her 
 hair. 
 
 " He was there two hours. He never 
 talked of anything but you." 
 
 Marietta's voice was muffled by her posi- 
 tion. After a moment she said : 
 
 " Did you know it ?" 
 
 Dally replied with characteristic direct- 
 ness and truth : 
 
 " Something in his manner made me guess 
 it. I do not think he meant me to know it." 
 
 "You had guessed it that morning you 
 came for quinces, and he had brought you 
 part way?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You were troubled ?"
 
 228 DALLY 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I remember how you looked at me," 
 said Marietta, more excitedly. " I kept 
 wondering what that look meant. You 
 were sorry for me?" 
 
 "Yes; and for him, too." 
 
 " For him ? Oh, yes, of course you were 
 sorry for him !" 
 
 Marietta was yet more excited. She 
 raised her head. She kissed Dally vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " I wouldn't misjudge you for all the 
 world !" she cried, and clung faster to Dally, 
 who, though capable of much deeper and 
 more violent emotion, did not yield herself 
 up so readily. 
 
 There had been but one resolve clear in 
 Marietta's mind when she had started out 
 this morning. That resolve was to ask Dal- 
 ly if she loved Graham. But now she found 
 it impossible to put the question. Daily's 
 nature was as pellucid as the clearest lake, 
 but yet Marietta could form no guess upon 
 this subject. It was natural, however, for 
 her to think that she did, or would, return 
 Graham's overwhelming passion. And how 
 she would love ! Thus Marietta thought as
 
 DALLY 
 
 229 
 
 she sat looking at her friend, who was still 
 on her knees beside her, holding her hands 
 closely with the touch and the tender grip 
 of one who has the wish and the power to 
 comfort. 
 
 And Marietta was comforted, though not 
 through any spoken words. She could not 
 help thinking how strange it was that the 
 girl Avho had supplanted her in her lover's 
 heart was the one to whom she should look 
 for sympathy and strength. 
 
 " I don't know what I should do without 
 you," she said, with a sob. " Mar's worse 
 'n' nothing, and I can't go to par in this kind 
 of trouble, somehow. He'd pitch into Tho- 
 dor horrid, and I don't blame Thodor. 'Tain't 
 in me to blame any one for loving you. But 
 it's all awful. And only think, he went to 
 see Bill and told him all about how it was." 
 
 A kind of vibration passed through Dally, 
 but her gaze did not flinch. 
 
 " Bill told him to come and tell me. He 
 said I was the right kind of stuff, and would 
 do right about it. Bill always did believe in 
 me," with a forlorn kind of pride. "And I 
 hope I shall do right. Thodor offered to 
 stick by our engagement and try to get the
 
 230 DALLY 
 
 better of of this love for you, but I wouldn't 
 have that. No, indeed ; I guess I wouldn't. 
 He's just as free as if he'd never met me." 
 
 Marietta felt her lips suddenly closed by 
 a tremulous and lingering kiss. To her sur- 
 prise she felt tears on Daily's face. 
 
 " He isn't worthy of you," whispered Dai- 
 Marietta stayed another half-hour in the 
 little chamber. But very few words were 
 said. Sometimes Daily's hand stroked her 
 friend's face softly. It was inexpressible 
 comfort to Marietta to look long in Daily's 
 eyes. Those eyes were at once so soft and 
 strong. Above all, they were sympathetic. 
 
 When Marietta went down into the kitch- 
 en again, old Aunt Judson roused from a nap 
 and called quaveringly after her " to be sure 
 'n' hold on to her beau." 
 
 Marietta tried not to slam the door. As 
 she was shutting it the old voice could be 
 heard saying, shrilly, 
 
 "You won't find no such ketch nowhars 
 else."
 
 XVIII 
 
 MRS. WINSLOW'S NEMESIS 
 
 IR. PETER WINSLOW knew where- 
 of he spoke when he said to Marietta 
 that " they couldn't live with mar if 
 Thodor should stop comin' there." 
 
 And now Thodor had stopped. 
 
 At first Mrs. Winslow maintained a silence 
 on the subject. She kept saying that Mari- 
 etta was " jest like her father V his folks, 
 but William was jest like her." 
 
 Although such remarks did not apparently 
 refer to the discontinuance of Graham's vis- 
 its, yet Marietta and her father knew they 
 were inspired by that fact. 
 
 The girl took the first opportunity to con- 
 fide, of course within the precincts of the 
 wood-house, to her father that she and Tho- 
 dor had both thought it was best to break 
 off the engagement. 
 
 Mr. Winslow was greatly prostrated by 
 this intelligence. He did not want his daugh-
 
 232 DALLY 
 
 ter to be married, but he would have liked 
 an arrangement whereby she might be con- 
 tinually courted by Thodor, so that Mrs. 
 Winslow might be kept in a good humor. 
 
 He sat down on the chopping-block as if 
 he had no strength to keep upon his feet. 
 Marietta was standing by the door, with the 
 same square of blanket on her head that she 
 had worn as a child. Her father looked in 
 a bewildered manner at her. 
 
 "Does your mar know?" he asked. 
 When he heard the answer " no," he 
 groaned aloud. 
 
 "Who's goin' to tell her?" 
 Marietta said that she had been thinking 
 they might get Bill to tell her. She was try- 
 ing to write to Bill. She thought he could 
 fix mar somehow. He always had, and she 
 guessed he always would. 
 
 This reference to young Winslow seemed 
 to give some comfort to both father and 
 daughter. Mr. Winslow was presently able 
 to get off of the block and begin to chop 
 some " trash." He expressed the hope that 
 " p'r'aps 'twas only a quarrel, and they'd 
 make it up between um." 
 
 But Marietta firmly combated that idea.
 
 DALLY 
 
 233 
 
 She said " they wa'n't neither of um to 
 blame ; but they'd concluded the engage- 
 ment would be better broke than kept." 
 
 Mr. Winslow tried to accept this as final. 
 But he went round in such a very visible 
 state of mental confusion that at the dinner- 
 table that very day his wife made the inter- 
 cession of Bill superfluous. 
 
 She said she knew something was in the 
 wind. She never knew her husband to look 
 quite so much like a fool as he did at this 
 present moment. And Marietta didn't look 
 much brighter. She laid down the knife 
 with which she had been conveying squash- 
 pie to her mouth. The manner in which 
 she relinquished this implement made her 
 hearers know that the onslaught was to be 
 fierce and, possibly, prolonged. 
 
 Marietta made a sudden resolve. 
 
 Her mother went on to assert that she be- 
 lieved that what was in the wind had some- 
 thing to do with Thodor Graham and " that 
 
 o 
 
 gal there," pointing a slice of brown bread 
 at Marietta. 
 
 It was then that Marietta acted upon her 
 resolve. She felt herself becoming rigid, but 
 she was determined.
 
 234 DALLY 
 
 " Mother," she said, " Thodor 'n' I've brok- 
 en it all off. We've made up our minds to 
 be jest friends." 
 
 This was so much worse than Mrs. Wins- 
 low had imagined, that she in her turn began 
 to be rigid. 
 
 It was several moments before she was 
 able to speak. 
 
 She placed the brown bread beside her 
 knife. She pushed back from the table. She 
 looked over at her husband, who would not 
 look at her. 
 
 " Mr. Winslow," she said, " was you know- 
 in' to this?" 
 
 " Not until she told me," jerking his head 
 towards his daughter, but not raising his eyes. 
 
 " Do you know the cause ?" 
 
 " Only what she said." 
 
 The woman now discarded her chair en- 
 tirely. She looked very large in body as she 
 stood there. 
 
 " Well," she cried, " I know ! I know the 
 reason ! I ain't er born fool, even if I did 
 marry one. It's that Caroliny gal ! She's 
 the root of it. Oh, the sly one ! She's 
 ben settin' her cap, I'll bet a million dollars. 
 'N' Thodor's ben caught. I don't say I've
 
 DALLY 
 
 235 
 
 seen her at it. She's too sly. But she done 
 it ! She done it ! I'm goin' right over there 
 this very instant." 
 
 Marietta bounded from her own seat. She 
 was terrified at this random guess of her 
 mother. But she knew that if a burglary 
 had been reported it was likely her mother 
 would have maintained the probability that 
 Dally had perpetrated the crime. 
 
 The girl sprang at the elder woman and 
 caught hold of her arm. 
 
 " You're crazy !" she cried ; " you sha'n't go !" 
 
 Mrs. Winslow thrust her child aside. She 
 was furious that young Graham had been 
 lost. Of course he had been the one to 
 break the engagement. No girl in her senses 
 would have let such a " feller " go. 
 
 " I ain't crazy one grain," she answered. 
 " I know what I'm about, if there ain't any- 
 body else does. Marietta Winslow, how c'n 
 you stand there 'n' hold your head up?" 
 
 She turned, and hastened into her bed- 
 room, where she threw a blanket shawl over 
 her shoulders. She emerged from the room 
 in the act of putting a long white cloud many 
 times round her head. Her face was now 
 almost purple from excitement.
 
 236 DALLY 
 
 11 Mother," said Mr. Winslow, anxiously, 
 " you'll do yourself a damage if you ain't 
 careful. You'll bust something in your 
 head." 
 
 " Don't you speak to me," was the re- 
 sponse, with great stress upon the last word 
 of her sentence. 
 
 Marietta had disappeared. The moment 
 her mother opened the outer door the girl 
 joined her with her hat and jacket on. She 
 was told " to go into the house this instant." 
 But she did not obey. She walked on be- 
 side her mother, whom she informed that 
 " if anybody was going over to the Widder 
 'Bijah's that day, she was going too." 
 
 This open rebellion added to Mrs. Wins- 
 low's rage and astonishment. To use her 
 own words, she " felt as if the world was 
 comin' to an end." 
 
 She walked as fast as she had ever done in 
 her youth, when she had had less avoirdupois 
 to contend against. By her side her daugh- 
 ter kept on her way. 
 
 It was not one o'clock. People had eaten 
 dinner, but had not yet resumed work. The 
 elder woman did not choose the pasture 
 path, but went by the road.
 
 DALLY 
 
 237 
 
 Mr. Bailey, smoking his pipe in his yard, 
 saw the two go by. He went to the corner 
 of his house that he might watch them far- 
 ther. He had intended to nod at them, but, 
 though they seemed to see him, they gave 
 no sign of recognition. He hurried into the 
 house, and told his wife that " Peter Wins- 
 low's wife 'n' daughter 'd jest gone by like 
 the very old scratch." He hinted that it 
 would be well if Mrs. Bailey could make an 
 errand over to Winslow's, and thus have a 
 chance to discover " what was up." 
 
 The two kept up their rate of speed, and 
 by the time they turned into the Jacobs 
 yard Mrs. Winslow was panting so heavily 
 that she was obliged to lean against the 
 fence a moment. Marietta would have gone 
 on to warn the household of what was com- 
 ing, but she was held fast. When they did 
 enter, by the porch, they saw Dally clearing 
 the dinner-table, while Mrs. Jacobs was stir- 
 ring with a wooden ladle something in a large 
 iron kettle on the stove. The woman from 
 the poorhouse, " old Aunt Judson," with the 
 shaking head, had not yet finished her visit, 
 and was sitting in the arm-chair where Mari- 
 etta had seen her. The wrinkled face showed
 
 238 DALLY 
 
 signs of interest and eagerness as these two 
 callers entered so abruptly. Mrs. Judson 
 tried to whisper to her hostess that she 
 guessed " that Mis' Winslow's temper was 
 gittin' the best of her agin." The old wom- 
 an almost smacked her toothless lips in an- 
 ticipation of some kind of a scene. She 
 grasped her chair -arms, and tried to hold 
 herself still as she waited and listened. 
 
 The widow evidently strove to take a good 
 hold of her self-control. She turned and put 
 some chairs for her visitors. She told Mrs. 
 Winslow that she was trying out her leaf- 
 lard, but she didn't think it would be as 
 white as it should be to be the best kind. 
 
 Marietta caught hold of Daily's skirt as 
 she was taking some dishes to the sink. She 
 made her mouth form the words, " Dreadful 
 time!" But Dally did not need this infor- 
 mation. She had seen Mrs. Winslow's face, 
 and was righting with herself. Something of 
 the old furious sense of injustice and hatred, 
 which this woman had roused in her as a 
 child, came again to her. She had the im- 
 pulse to spring upon her now as she sprang 
 upon her when the attempt had been made 
 to take the puppy away.
 
 DALLY 
 
 239 
 
 Marietta, glancing fearfully at Daily's face, 
 was freshly alarmed at what she saw there. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow could not waste her time in 
 any reply to Mrs. Jacobs's remark about her 
 leaf-lard. She did not wish to say a word 
 that should not have a barbed point to it. 
 And she had an unaccustomed fear lest when 
 she began to speak she should stammer. She 
 did not know what that meant. 
 
 She could not see anything but old Aunt 
 Judson's trembling head the other side of the 
 great kettle of fat ; it seemed to her that it 
 was because of that head that she found for- 
 cible speech so difficult. 
 
 Every instant she thought the right word 
 would come. 
 
 " You ain't 's well 's common to-day, be 
 ye?" 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs, as she asked this question, 
 turned, with the stick held over the pot and 
 dripping fat. 
 
 " I'm jest 's well 's I c'n be," burst out 
 Mrs. Winslow. " I had ter come Thodor 
 Graham ! that gal done it ! she done it 
 she " 
 
 Dally had wheeled round, facing that un- 
 wieldy form and that crimson countenance.
 
 240 
 
 DALLY 
 
 She stood erect and quivering. The wild, 
 panther-like blood in her was boiling as it 
 had hardly done since this same woman had 
 provoked her before. 
 
 But, as she looked, her attitude seemed to 
 change without the moving of a muscle. She 
 stood the same, but her aspect was different. 
 
 Mrs. Winslow was still saying, thickly, 
 "She done it," but her lips were clumsy. 
 Her face had become contorted, her head 
 began to loll, and her hands fumbled at her 
 neck. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs's ladle fell into the kettle with 
 a splash that sent some hot fat on to Aunt 
 Judson's cheek. 
 
 The widow took hold of Mrs. Winslow's 
 shoulders, and sustained them against herself 
 while she tore open the gown at the throat. 
 
 " Dally," said Mrs. Jacobs, clearly, " ride 
 the horse to the Centre for the doctor. Mis' 
 Winslow's got a stroke." 
 
 Dally was half-way to the barn before the 
 sentence was finished. It was hardly a mo- 
 ment before she had the bridle on the horse 
 and was galloping him, bare-backed, out of 
 the yard. 
 
 Marietta stood up helpless until she re-
 
 DALLY 241 
 
 ceived two or three concise directions, which 
 she obeyed. 
 
 In a short time the two had laid the wom- 
 an on a mattress on the floor, and propped 
 her head high. A mustard-plaster was put 
 on the back of her neck and on the soles of 
 her feet. Her face kept its dreadful color, 
 and her breathing its sound. 
 
 " It's all we can do now," at last said Mrs. 
 Jacobs. She looked at Marietta, who was 
 wringing her hands and making a little moan- 
 ing noise. 
 
 " Run over 'n' tell your father to bring his 
 express wagon with some mattresses 'n' pil- 
 lers," she said, mercifully giving the girl 
 something to do. 
 
 Marietta turned to the door. She came 
 back and asked, in a whisper: 
 
 " Is she going to come out of it ?" 
 
 " I guess she'll git some better, anyway," 
 was the reply. 
 
 Marietta ran across the pasture towards 
 her home. How could she help it that, amid 
 all the horror of the moment, there was an 
 unmistakable feeling of relief? She would 
 take care of her mother for any length of 
 time ; nobody ever had better care than her 
 16
 
 242 DALLY 
 
 mother should have. She knew her father 
 would do everything he could, too. Marietta 
 was shocked, but how could she be smitten 
 with grief? She felt very wicked because 
 she could not overcome that feeling of re- 
 lief. It was in vain that she tried to put it 
 from her. She kept thinking of the peace 
 and freedom of the household if its mistress 
 should continue helpless. Her mother had 
 never been tender with her. All the tender- 
 ness in that heart had been given to William, 
 who "was just like the Joneses." 
 
 She found her father in the barn, fodder- 
 ing the cows. 
 
 " Father," she cried out, " mar's got a 
 stroke !" 
 
 Mr. Winslow had his pitchfork loaded with 
 hay. He dropped it. 
 
 "I don't believe it," he said. " There 
 wouldn't no stroke dare " 
 
 Then he saw his daughter's face, which 
 told him the truth more plainly than her 
 words had told it.
 
 XIX 
 
 DALLY'S ANSWER 
 
 !HE Jacobs neighborhood became rec- 
 onciled immediately to the fact that 
 Mrs. Winslow had had a "stroke," 
 and could not now move the left side of her 
 body. One man went so far as to say that 
 it must be " a massy to her husband " that 
 her tongue was so stiff she could only speak 
 with the greatest difficulty. Peter himself 
 went about his work with a very long face. 
 He unconsciously made his face longer be- 
 cause of the relief that was in the very bot- 
 tom of his heart. 
 
 Like his daughter, he felt a sense of wick- 
 edness on account of that relief; but the 
 emotion persisted and grew. His wife was 
 not dead. She was only providentially pre- 
 vented from making the household unhappy. 
 They could take care of her. 
 
 Mr. Winslow soon began to whistle as he 
 sauntered around the farm. But if he saw
 
 244 DALLY 
 
 any one coming, he stopped whistling. A 
 hundred times a day he told himself that the 
 breaking-off of Marietta's engagement was 
 " mighty lucky." 
 
 He had, however, an unformulated wish 
 that the parting between the lovers might 
 have been deferred until the falling of the 
 stroke, when there would have appeared to 
 be a definite reason why Marietta must now 
 stay at home and relinquish the honor of 
 being Graham's wife. As it was, the father 
 could not help thinking that the whole affair 
 was very mysterious. He communed with 
 himself a great deal on the subject. Some- 
 times, when alone in the woods, " thinning 
 out the trees," he would lean on his axe and 
 say aloud that " gals was mighty curious 
 things." 
 
 The closest observation he could bring to 
 bear on his daughter showed her to be as 
 cheerful as was consistent with her moth- 
 er's condition. He would strike his axe very 
 hard into the wood when he wondered if 
 Graham could have ill-treated her. 
 
 If girls were curious, he felt also that boys 
 were not entirely lacking in that quality. 
 There was something about Bill he did not
 
 DALLY 245 
 
 understand. He was so manly, so controlled, 
 and almost austere and what was he think- 
 ing about that brought that vertical line be- 
 tween the straight brows ? 
 
 The man decided that children were " tre- 
 mendous puzzles" when they were grown 
 
 up- 
 Young Winslow came home in response 
 to the news sent him. His mother wept co- 
 piously. She was eager to say something to 
 him. This something was finally found to 
 be a question as to whether Thodor Graham 
 had really delivered the flannels and the bar- 
 berry preserve. She learned that they had 
 been received, but not that Graham had for- 
 gotten them, and had afterwards forwarded 
 the parcels by express. 
 
 The young man only remained through 
 one day. His mother was in no immediate 
 danger, and Bill said it was a bad time for 
 him to leave his studfes now. 
 
 He had a half-hour's interview with his 
 sister. 
 
 Marietta thought her brother very much 
 preoccupied. He kept walking about the 
 room with his hands deep in his pockets. 
 Suddenly he stopped in front of her, where
 
 246 DALLY 
 
 she stood watching him. He put a hand on 
 each shoulder. 
 
 " Dear old Met," he said, his familiar voice 
 going to the girl's heart, " I hope you haven't 
 been too hard hit." 
 
 She trembled under his touch, but she 
 looked at him bravely. 
 
 "Not so hard that I sha'n't get over it," 
 she answered. " Of course it hurts to be for- 
 saken. But I sh'll stand it. Don't blame 
 Thodor too much. He couldn't help it." 
 
 It was a great aid to Marietta to be thus 
 near Bill for a moment. 
 
 After a short silence, still with his hands 
 on her shoulders, the young man said : 
 
 "And she?" 
 
 " She isn't to blame, either," was the quick 
 reply. 
 
 Bill turned away to the window, and put 
 his hands back in his pockets. 
 
 " But what does she think of Graham ? 
 Has she told you ? Do you guess?" 
 
 " She hasn't told me, and I can't guess. 
 She said once that he wasn't worthy of me." 
 
 "That means nothing." 
 
 Marietta flushed in instant defence of 
 Dally.
 
 DALLY 
 
 247 
 
 " It means that she meant exactly what 
 she said," she exclaimed, hotly. 
 
 Her brother turned towards her with a 
 smile that was full of affection and approval. 
 
 " Met," he said, " you're a trump !" 
 
 An hour later he told his sister that he 
 should walk over to the Farnham station, and 
 should stop at the Widder 'Bijah's. Then 
 Marietta informed him that Dally was not at 
 home. She had been sent unexpectedly to 
 Fall River for a week to help a niece of Mrs. 
 Jacobs, whose baby was sick. 
 
 As she said these words, Marietta looked 
 searchingly at the face before her. She saw 
 its disappointment, but she could not read 
 clearly any farther. 
 
 It was on the fourth day after Mrs. Wins- 
 low's seizure that Theodore Graham called 
 to inquire after her. 
 
 Marietta met him at the door, and told 
 him that her mother could see no one. She 
 was startled at the haggard expression of his 
 face. He pushed by her, and the two stood 
 in the sitting-room. 
 
 " I've been out to Chicago," he said, " since 
 I was here last. Thought a little change 
 might be good for me. So I shirked my
 
 248 DALLY 
 
 work and left. Didn't know but I might see 
 things clearer if I got away." 
 
 He spoke very rapidly, and looked all about 
 the room. 
 
 " Did the trip do you any good ?" she asked. 
 
 "Not a bit." 
 
 She could not think of anything more to 
 say, her visitor was so distrait. He kept 
 pullihg his left-hand glove off and on. Mari- 
 etta was calm and self-possessed. She 
 could watch the worn face that revealed the 
 unhappiness of its owner. 
 
 " He is having a great deal worse time 
 than I am," she said to herself. Then, aloud : 
 
 " I don't see why you should be so wretch- 
 ed now." 
 
 "No; I s'pose not. Women don't know 
 much about love." 
 
 She was silent. 
 
 "Do forgive me!" he exclaimed. 
 
 She held out her hand to him. He took 
 it in a tight clasp. 
 
 " Is she at home?" he inquired. 
 
 Marietta told him. He was evidently sur- 
 prised, as if Dally could not be away, save at 
 Mrs. Lander's. 
 
 When he left, ten minutes later, Marietta
 
 DALLY 249 
 
 knew as well as if he had said so that he was 
 going straight to Fall River. The time had 
 come when it seemed absolutely necessary 
 that he must see Dally. He had thought 
 he would wait a month or so ; he imagined 
 it would be more decent not to rush to Dally 
 the moment he had left Marietta. 
 
 You cannot take a train from Farnham 
 just when you feel inclined. The trains 
 through such places appear to run more as 
 a means of discipline to humankind than as 
 an accommodation. But some of these trains 
 do stop, and thus Graham was enabled to get 
 to Boston, and then to Fall River by dusk of 
 that same day. 
 
 He waited in a very small and very hot 
 parlor for " Miss Jacobs " to appear. 
 
 He had not sent in his name. She did 
 not keep him waiting. Very soon the door 
 opened, and Dally entered. 
 
 Graham's face flushed swiftly at sight of 
 her. It almost seemed to him that she must 
 know he would have to come to her. 
 
 She also flushed when she recognized him ; 
 but she was soon' very pale, and continued 
 so through the interview. 
 
 " I am sorry to see you," she said, without 
 any previous greeting.
 
 250 DALLY 
 
 He began with startling abruptness, and 
 his voice was harsh : 
 
 " It's not fair, then, that I should be so 
 glad to see you so glad that I haven't any 
 words. I've been mad for one glimpse of 
 your face. That sounds sensational, but 
 some sensational things are true. There's 
 no other way to begin to express what's in 
 me. I'm just mad for you. You've made a 
 different man of me ; you " 
 
 Here Dally made a slight gesture. She 
 was standing the other side of the table. 
 
 " I thought you had no words," she said, 
 with a hint of a smile. 
 
 She 'did not know that she smiled. She 
 was conscious only of a grave distress. But 
 at the same time she was surprised that it 
 should be such an impersonal feeling. She 
 had suffered more keenly when her dog had 
 a thorn in his foot. 
 
 Graham almost groaned. 
 
 " Don't laugh at me !" he exclaimed. " I 
 tell you there ain't any words that express 
 what I want to say. I had to come to you. 
 I was driven on by something I couldn't re- 
 sist. Dally " he stepped to her side " don't 
 be cruel with me ! Don't !"
 
 DALLY 251 
 
 Graham had never before felt the extreme 
 limitation of human speech, as he was mas- 
 ter of it. He could only look at her now, 
 and his heart sent passionate pleading into 
 his face. 
 
 "You're so hard!" he murmured, a mo- 
 ment later. The girl's face appeared remote 
 and severe. 
 
 She stood very straight, and looked up di- 
 rectly in his face. Her hands were clasped 
 behind her in the childish attitude Marietta 
 and Bill would have remembered. 
 
 "Am I so hard?" she asked. "I do not 
 feel so. I feel sorry that you hadn't the 
 good fortune to continue to love Marietta. 
 How blind you are ! Blind !" 
 
 " But I love you," began Graham. He 
 pressed nearer, but he did not dare to put 
 out his hand to her. 
 
 " I do not believe it." Graham at first 
 could only utter an incoherent explanation. 
 It was monstrous that she should refuse to 
 believe in the existence of something that 
 was like a consuming fire to him. 
 
 " Not believe it?" he stammered. " How 
 dare you say that to me?" 
 
 He lifted up his hands in a violent gesture.
 
 252 DALLY 
 
 He had never felt so tortured and so help- 
 less. He was choking with his baffled pas- 
 sion. 
 
 " I say it because I do not love you one 
 particle ; therefore, it appears impossible 
 that you should love me. I cannot con- 
 ceive of a love not mutual. There may be 
 a flaming up of some emotion, but it will 
 soon die. If I lived a thousand years, I 
 should never love you. You ought to have 
 known it and have spared us both this inter- 
 view." 
 
 She spoke very gently, but with extreme 
 decision. Her face was softening now. She 
 could not continue to look upon his suffer- 
 ing without pity. 
 
 He turned away, and was evidently mak- 
 ing a great effort towards a degree of self- 
 control. 
 
 " Why should I have known that you 
 could never love me?" he asked. "Am I 
 such a monster? You don't take much 
 pains to help me bear the blow." 
 
 "I was afraid you might not see how im- 
 possible it is that I should love you. It 
 seemed better to make it all plain at first." 
 
 " You have made it perfectly plain," re-
 
 DALLY 253 
 
 sponded Graham, with great bitterness. " I 
 must be even more stupid than I have been 
 if I could hope anything from you now." 
 
 He had a vague wish to assume an ap- 
 pearance of courage and manliness. He 
 wanted to say something noble and mag- 
 nanimous. She would remember him more 
 pleasantly if he could leave her in that 
 way. 
 
 He stood looking helplessly at her. He 
 could not say one noble word. He could 
 only gaze, with the intolerable certainty 
 that he must go; that he must never look 
 at her again in this way. 
 
 " It is very hard to leave you," he said at 
 last, after several moments had passed in si- 
 lence. 
 
 " But you should go," she returned, almost 
 in a whisper. " It does no good for you to 
 stay." 
 
 "Not -the least good; only here I may 
 look at you. You have no idea what it is 
 for me to look at you, Dally." 
 
 The girl trembled at this. Her voice was 
 unsteady as she said, hurriedly: 
 
 " Oh, you must go ! . I am so sorry ! So 
 sorry ! Now go !"
 
 254 DALLY 
 
 She gave him her hand. As he took it 
 he asked, piteously : 
 
 " Are you sure there isn't any hope for 
 me?" 
 
 " Sure. Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 He hurried out of the room and into the 
 street. 
 
 Dally stood a short time where he had 
 left her. Her hands were pressed tightly 
 together, and her eyes widely opened. 
 
 As she turned towards the door she was 
 thinking: 
 
 " If Marietta had loved him with all her 
 heart, she would be even more unhappy 
 than I am. He will go back to her in time. 
 Mrs. Lander says it doesn't make so much 
 difference to a man what woman he marries. 
 Can that be true ?" 
 
 She held the door in her hand, lingering 
 until she could join her hostess calmly.
 
 XX 
 
 BARKER SETTLES WITH THE DODSONS 
 
 iVEN if old Aunt Judson's head did 
 shake all the time, and if she did 
 laugh in an almost imbecile manner, 
 she had mind enough to take in the suspi- 
 cion that Peter Winslow's wife had come 
 over to charge Dally with something that 
 day she, Mrs. Winslow, " got her stroke." 
 And it was something about Thodor Gra- 
 ham and Marietta. She put this suspicion 
 and the fact that " Thodor wa'n't a-goin' with 
 Marietta now " together, and the two formed 
 a very fructifying subject of thought for her. 
 She sat there by the hot stove for several 
 days and thought. She talked a good deal 
 about how Mrs. Winslow had looked and 
 spoken that noon, when'the blow fell upon 
 her. It was all very interesting. But she 
 couldn't make any remarks concerning the 
 other part of the subject here at Mrs. Ja- 
 cobs's house.
 
 256 DALLY 
 
 She had meant to continue her visit un- 
 til after Thanksgiving, for, as she often as- 
 serted, " the widow's victuals jest suited 
 her." 
 
 The desire to be where she could discuss 
 with a sympathetic listener all that was in 
 her mind proved greater than the desire for 
 the victuals that suited her. 
 
 The afternoon before Thanksgiving she 
 announced to Mrs. Jacobs that if it would 
 be convenient she would like to be taken 
 over to her niece Betsey's, in Smithville. 
 
 Dally harnessed the horse into the old 
 covered wagon. Aunt Judson was wrapped 
 up in shawls and quilts and " boosted " on to 
 the back seat. Dally gathered up the lines 
 and the whip, and Mrs. Jacobs told her to 
 "be sure and not stop a minute in Smith- 
 ville, for the days were so short." 
 
 Coming back alone along the lonesome 
 way, over which the shadows were gather- 
 ing already, Dally saw ahead of her a figure 
 which she recognized. It was Barker. He 
 was slouching as usual. He had an empty 
 bag over his shoulder. 
 
 Though he must have heard the horse's 
 feet and the wheels, he did not look round
 
 DALLY 
 
 257 
 
 until they stopped beside him and the girl 
 asked him to get in, for she " could give 
 him a lift." 
 
 He sat down beside her. She immediate- 
 ly became conscious of the old feeling of 
 self-reproach because she was not, and could 
 not, be glad to see him. 
 
 He did not look at her. To her great 
 surprise he began talking. Again he asked 
 her if she didn't miss the mountains. 
 
 She tried to be very gentle with him. 
 She told him that she often dreamed of the 
 mountains, and then longed for them. 
 
 " But we've found good friends here, 
 Barker." 
 
 He grunted. He shuffled his feet. Then 
 he said, almost with animation, and with 
 some contempt : 
 
 "I know yer. You-uns done weaned 
 from thur mountings." He now actually 
 looked at her as he said: "You-uns is in 
 lurv," with great derision. 
 
 Dally turned upon him savagely. 
 
 " In love ! You don't know what you're 
 talking about ! Love isn't for me." 
 
 Barker hunched his shoulders and was si- 
 lent. He wondered how she could fire up 
 17
 
 258 DALLY 
 
 so sometimes. It was so foolish, and it 
 must require energy. 
 
 She whipped the horse. The darkness 
 was now coming quickly on. Up above 
 them in the dusk was heard the clanging 
 noise of a flock of wild geese flying low 
 down on their way south. 
 
 " I wish I war urn," said Barker; "I reck- 
 on they be gwine ter thur South." 
 
 " Yes, they are." 
 
 Another silence, which Barker broke. 
 
 "I've gurt some reck'nin' ter settle with 
 them Dodsons. I'm 'bout ready, I be. 
 Thur's reck'nin's ter settle, an' I'll settle 
 'em." 
 
 " Barker, what do you mean ?" 
 
 " I'll let yer know I don't mean nothin'." 
 
 He drooped his head and did not speak 
 again. Very soon he left her to go across 
 the fields to the Dodson farm. 
 
 In fifteen minutes more Dally had driven 
 into the barn and was unharnessing by the 
 light of the lantern, which had been placed 
 there for her. She was so depressed that 
 she could eat little supper. She told Mrs. 
 Jacobs a part of what her brother had said, 
 and Mrs. Jacobs tried to restrain her anger
 
 DALLY 259 
 
 against the little wretch who, she supposed, 
 was "just as God made him." 
 
 Before she went to bed, Dally walked 
 over to inquire about Mrs. Winslow, and to 
 take some citron preserve with which Mrs. 
 Jacobs had had " extry good luck." " The 
 poor critter likes to be remembered," said 
 the widow; " V she can't do much more 
 harm in this world now." 
 
 Marietta was tired from a hard day's 
 work, cooking and cleaning. She was ly- 
 ing on the old lounge in the kitchen when 
 Dally softly opened the door and came to 
 her before she could rise. She felt her 
 friend's cool hand on her forehead, and she 
 put up both arms and drew Dally down to 
 her side. 
 
 " I hope you don't get discouraged," said 
 Dally. 
 
 "Your voice sounds as if you were dis- 
 couraged yourself," was the response. 
 
 "I ought not to be, since I've just taken 
 old Aunt Judson to Smithville," replied 
 Dally, with a laugh. 
 
 " I'm thankful she's gone," exclaimed 
 Marietta, fervently. " I couldn't go there 
 and hear her tell me I better have held on
 
 26o DALLY 
 
 to Thodor Graham." Then, after a pause, 
 " He went to Fall River to see you ?" 
 
 " Yes. He understands now." 
 
 " That you can't love him ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then it's true that you can't?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Dally put her head down near Marietta's 
 cheek. 
 
 " If he comes back to you some day, what 
 shall you say to him ?" 
 
 Marietta sat up, with her arm round her 
 companion. 
 
 " I should say I didn't think we'd better 
 be more than friends," she answered, with 
 unmistakable decision. 
 
 Presently Dally went away. She opened 
 the door again just as Marietta had kindled 
 a lamp, and the light fell full on Daily's face. 
 She had forgotten a message, which she now 
 delivered. Her friend was impressed by the 
 peculiar vividness of the eyes and mouth 
 the something haunting. 
 
 " Dally !" cried Marietta, " what are you 
 thinking about ?" 
 
 Dally smiled. "Just this moment, about 
 the mountains."
 
 DALLY 2 6i 
 
 " What mountains ?" wonderingly. 
 
 " Why, my mountains in Carolina. Bar- 
 ker was talking of them. He seems to have 
 them a great deal on his mind." 
 
 Marietta came to the door. " Isn't it too 
 bad that Bill thinks he can't come for 
 Thanksgiving to-morrow ?" she said. 
 
 " Yes, it is. Now, good-night." 
 
 Dally did not fall asleep very soon when 
 she went to her bed that evening. She was 
 well, but slumber would not come before 
 midnight. She was thinking about Barker 
 and what he had said. She was always un- 
 happy when she thought of him, and this 
 night she was particularly so. 
 
 But at last she was asleep. It seemed to 
 her that she was wakened almost immediate- 
 ly by some one pronouncing her name by 
 her bedside. She started up bewildered. 
 The late moonlight came in through her 
 window and revealed Barker standing there. 
 
 She sat up and put her hand out towards 
 him in fright and surprise. 
 
 " How did you get in ?" she asked, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Easy 'nough. By thur pantry winder. 
 Didn't yo' hear yer houn' bark?"
 
 262 DALLY 
 
 " No. Oh, Barker, you haven't hurt my 
 dog?" 
 
 " No," contemptuously. " He's in thur 
 barn Avhar yo' shurt him. I curm to tell yo' 
 I'm er gvvine." 
 
 "Going? Where?" 
 
 "To thur mountings. I ain't er gwine ter 
 live 'thout thur mountings no longer. I 
 didn't reckon tu make quite sech er soon 
 start, but that ole Dodson 'oman ain't bear- 
 able no longer, she ain't." 
 
 " Go down-stairs softly and wait for me. 
 Don't wake aunty. I'll go out with you." 
 
 He went out as noiselessly as he had come. 
 Dally had not dared to talk with him any 
 longer there. She hurriedly dressed and 
 wrapped a gray blanket from the bed about 
 her. She joined her brother and the two 
 went out into the frosty air of the Novem- 
 ber night. Moon and stars were clearly 
 shining. 
 
 " Yo' mout er stopped inside," said Barker, 
 ungraciously. " I ain't gurt nothin' to say, 
 only jest I'm er gwine. If yo' wa'n't sech er 
 pore thing an' in lurv, yo'd go with me." 
 
 A sudden wave of wild longing for those 
 mountains where she had been so unhappy
 
 DALLY 263 
 
 came over Daily's soul as she heard those 
 words. What if she should run away with 
 Barker, and thus forever escape what had 
 become a complicated life here? 
 
 She had in her so much of the savagery, 
 the simplicity of the first woman, that she 
 felt herself unable to deal with any of the 
 simplest complications that arise in life. 
 There was something dreadful to her in the 
 fact that Graham loved her when he ought 
 to love Marietta. She had asked herself if 
 her sudden and prolonged absence would 
 make matters right again. Of course Gra- 
 ham did not really love her, because, as she 
 had told him, she did not return that feeling. 
 But for the present he was under the delu- 
 sion of passion. 
 
 Again she asked herself how it would be 
 if she were to go with her brother? The 
 wave of a rebellious wish to fly, she knew 
 not where, only it must be to some moun- 
 tains, rose yet more swiftly and powerfully. 
 
 Then it ebbed away with a strange sud- 
 denness, leaving her trembling with a peril- 
 ous tenderness and an emotion she could not 
 combat. 
 
 " I cannot go," she said, quietly. " I can-
 
 264 DALLY 
 
 not leave aunty. And how wretched we 
 should be down there ! Think of old Tid !" 
 Dally shuddered. She took hold of Barker's 
 arm forcibly. 
 
 " Why do you go ? Why won't you stay 
 here and be a respectable man ? Come and 
 live with us. Oh, why do you like such a 
 life?" 
 
 Barker did not try to withdraw his arm. 
 He gazed at the face near him. 
 
 " Yo' an' me ain't no ways erlike," he 
 said. " But if yo' cared fur me as yo' make 
 believe yo' do, yo'd go with me, yo' would. 
 I know how 'tis. Yo' jest can't care, an' yo' 
 keep er trying tu care. I don't wan't no 
 sech." 
 
 He flung off her hand. His words had gone 
 straight to her heart. She sobbed. He stood 
 silent, still looking at her. 
 
 " Be yo' gwine with me ? I've gurt money 
 'nough fur er spell, till I kin git more. Will 
 yo' go?" 
 
 "I can't! I can't!" 
 
 He sneered. She tried to think of some- 
 thing to say, but she had no words. 
 
 " 'Tain't no ways likely I'll ever see yo' 
 ergain."
 
 DALLY 265 
 
 He turned away. She sprang after him 
 and flung her arms about him, kissing him 
 and again begging him to "come and live 
 with them." 
 
 After a moment he put her from him and 
 walked off a few steps. He paused to tell 
 her she needn't worry about him. He could 
 take care of himself. And " mabby he'd 
 send her word some day." 
 
 He added, triumphantly : " Thur Dodsons 
 '11 find I've paid um urp. I've fixed sumpin 
 so't they'll find their house afire 'fore many 
 hours ; they will, cuss um ! I ain't their 
 nigger." 
 
 Now he walked off more rapidly than 
 Dally had ever seen him move. She shouted 
 to ask if he meant what he said. He broke 
 into a run. He was gone. 
 
 She stood a moment as one stands who 
 does not comprehend. Then it came fully 
 home to her understanding that Barker 
 had spoken truth. It was like him to re- 
 venge himself ; and he had told her he 
 meant to " settle a reckoning " with the 
 Dodsons. 
 
 It was still some moments before any defi- 
 nite idea of action came. It was nearly four
 
 266 DALLY 
 
 miles to the Dodsons. It was quite possible 
 she might ride there in time to warn them. 
 Barker was sly enough. He would arrange 
 to be out of the way before the fire would 
 take entire possession. 
 
 Now Dally moved very quickly. She went 
 to the barn and put saddle and bridle on 
 the horse. The hound kept snuffing at her 
 and whining. The wide barn door, flung 
 open, gave her plenty of moonlight. She 
 left the horse standing, and ran towards the 
 house. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs met her at the door with a 
 light in her hand. She had heard Daily's 
 voice shouting to Barker. 
 
 She could not do less than hasten Daily's 
 departure. She dared not suggest getting 
 some one else to go, for fear of the delay. 
 It was a lonely road, between pastures and 
 through woods, but Dally was a fearless 
 rider. 
 
 When the girl and the dog had started, 
 Mrs. Jacobs finished dressing, and, taking a 
 lantern, notwithstanding the moon, she went 
 down the road towards her nearest neighbor, 
 who was Mr. Peter Winslow. 
 
 " He will harness right away," she said to
 
 DALLY 267 
 
 herself. " We'll rouse what folks we can. I 
 sh'll go with him. We won't be more'n half 
 an hour behind her." 
 
 Although Mrs. Jacobs was anxious, she 
 did not feel really worried about Dally. 
 
 The old horse galloped on down the still 
 road. He had had speed in him once, and 
 when Dally was on his back he always re- 
 sponded nobly. The hound swept along 
 by her side. The sound of the hoofs re- 
 sounded. 
 
 With every moment that passed Dally felt 
 her depression leaving. By the time she had 
 ridden two miles, the air and the motion had 
 made her almost gay with that primitive, 
 elemental flow of spirits which can be in- 
 spired in one who goes through space on a 
 horse's back. To all such influences this girl 
 was peculiarly sensitive. Anything out of 
 doors, untrammelled, appealed to something 
 kindred in her. All untamed things seemed 
 to find her of their own blood. 
 
 But as she mounted a hill within about a 
 mile of her destination, her mind came back 
 forcibly to the present. She could look down 
 upon the Dodson house. One look was suf- 
 ficient for her. She saw a small flame com-
 
 263 DALLY 
 
 ing up through the roof near the chimney. 
 The rest of the building appeared to be rest- 
 ing tranquilly under the moonlight. The 
 old horse went down the hill as recklessly as 
 if he had been a colt.
 
 XXI 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs had intended, it was 
 not more than half an hour before 
 she and Peter Winslow were follow- 
 ing Dally. Marietta could not leave her 
 mother ; she stood in the doorway and 
 watched the wagon as it rattled off. She 
 wished she had been Dally, who had gone on 
 horseback. As she turned back into the 
 chilly kitchen with its one kerosene lamp 
 she felt strongly that life was very common- 
 place. 
 
 Mr. Winslow whipped his horse a great 
 deal, but, as he said, " the critter couldn't 
 git her spavin limbered up short of about 
 ten mild." Therefore it was, or seemed, a 
 great while before they reached the top of 
 that hill where Dally had paused. 
 
 When these two looked from that emi- 
 nence, Mr. Winslow uttered a great exclama- 
 tion and lashed the whip again on his poor
 
 270 DALLY 
 
 horse. The Dodson house had been burn- 
 ing so long that its roof had fallen in, and 
 now it was the timber skeleton that was 
 flaming. 
 
 They found Mr. Dodson running help- 
 lessly about the yard, picking up things and 
 putting them down. In answer to anxious 
 inquiries, he said he believed " Mis' Dodson 
 was some bruised, or something. She 'n' 
 Dally was out to ther barn ; but as for him, 
 somebody 'd got to have a head on their 
 shoulders." 
 
 As Mrs. Jacobs turned impatiently away, 
 Mr. Dodson added, as an afterthought of 
 little consequence, that he " s'posed they'd 
 ben burnt in their beds if it hadn't ben for 
 Dally." 
 
 The barn was on the other side of the 
 road. Its wide doors were opened. As Mrs. 
 Jacobs hurried through them Mrs. Dodson 
 came to meet her. She was wrapped in an 
 old " comforter," and she looked more for- 
 lorn than ever. She grasped the widow's 
 hands and cried out, tremulously : " She jest 
 saved my life, she did ! He was asleep on 
 the settee in the kitchen, 'n' he dars'n't com 
 up-stairs ! But she did !"
 
 DALLY 
 
 271 
 
 She began to sob violently and hysteri- 
 cally. " He dars'n't !" she repeated. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs shook her. 
 
 " Where is she ?" she asked. 
 
 For reply, Daily's voice came cheerfully 
 from a pile of hay. 
 
 " Here I am, aunty ! Not much hurt, 
 either. I was looking for you." 
 
 In truth, she did not look very much in- 
 jured, though she did not rise when Mrs. 
 Jacobs bent over her. The hound was lying 
 close beside her, and flopped his tail heavily 
 in greeting to the new-comer. 
 
 " I don't think the fire hurt me much," 
 she said, eagerly, " for 'I put a wet towel 
 round my head before I started up -stairs, 
 and I crept on my hands and knees. It was 
 after I got her out that a beam hit me, some- 
 how. I am so thankful I could save her ! So 
 thankful !" 
 
 She shut her eyes as she spoke the last 
 words. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs was perfectly calm. She had 
 Dally taken home. She sent back imme- 
 diately for Mr. and Mrs. Dodson, but Mr. 
 Winslow took them to his own house. 
 
 Dally was put on the bed in the room
 
 272 DALLY 
 
 leading from the kitchen, the same bed 
 where she had slept when she had first 
 come. 
 
 As she lay there, smiling with cheer at the 
 widow, she said it was odd how much she 
 had been thinking of the mountains lately. 
 But she supposed that was on account of 
 Barker. *At his name she trembled, and was 
 silent. 
 
 The doctor reached the house about day- 
 light on Thanksgiving Day. He and Mrs. 
 Jacobs were calmly cheerful. 
 
 Neighbors began to call to make inquiries. 
 Mr. Winslow procured some one to stay with 
 his wife, and sent Marietta over to help. It 
 was Marietta who saw every one that called. 
 Mrs. Jacobs sat by Dally. She had some 
 knitting in her hands. She seemed to be 
 knitting. Once Dally said : 
 
 "'Aunty, you're letting down a great many 
 stitches." 
 
 Sam, the dog, lay on the mat at the foot 
 of the bed. Sometimes he would walk around 
 to the side ; then a hand would be put out 
 to him. He would lick it, and lie down in 
 his old place. 
 
 Mr. Winslow had ridden off about noon
 
 DALLY 
 
 273 
 
 to Farnham to send off two telegraphic mes- 
 sages. One was from Marietta to her broth- 
 er. The other was from Mrs. Jacobs to Mrs. 
 Lander. 
 
 The doctor had said : " She may live a few 
 days." 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs sat day and night in her place. 
 She prayed continually. Not that Dally 
 might live, but that God would give his aid 
 to a life without her. 
 
 It was God who was doing this ; God who 
 had let Barker do what he had done. 
 
 The woman never doubted that the hand 
 of the Almighty was in it. But how should 
 she bear it ? Whether she endured the blow 
 well or ill, it was coming. Over and over she 
 recalled every incident connected with Dally, 
 from the time the child had appeared at the 
 gate that first day. The rain had been on 
 her hair and eyelashes. The gate had been 
 hard to open. Mrs. Jacobs saw again the 
 tanned little hand put out from the cloak to 
 pull at the latch. And the child had called 
 for whiskey. 
 
 Such poignant anguish had never before 
 come to this woman's life. She was con- 
 stantly saying to herself: 
 18
 
 274 DALLY 
 
 " I've got to bear it. I've got to bear it." 
 
 She thanked the Lord fervently that she 
 was getting into years. At sixty-three one 
 cannot expect an overwhelming number of 
 days and weeks and months to live. And at 
 sixty-three one has lost all the elasticity which 
 enables youth to rebound from sorrow. There 
 is nothing to do then but to bow down and 
 to endure. 
 
 Once, as the widow sat there going over 
 all this in her mind, Dally opened her eyes 
 and looked intently at her. 
 
 " Don't be too hard on Barker," she said. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs shuddered. 
 
 " I'll pray not to be too hard," she an- 
 swered, tenderly. 
 
 " I wanted to love him more," murmured 
 the girl, " but, somehow, I couldn't." Then 
 she went on, more quickly: "He couldn't 
 guess that I should be hurt so." 
 
 She shut her eyes, and said to herself: 
 " He's gone to thur mountings. How they 
 used to look at sunrise and sunset ! And al- 
 ways standing there !" 
 
 Many times an hour Marietta would come 
 to the door and look silently in, holding her- 
 self quiet by an intense effort. If Dally saw
 
 DALLY 
 
 275 
 
 her, she smiled with the same melting glow 
 of eyes that had so often penetrated to Mari- 
 etta's soul. 
 
 The girl would move quickly away, then 
 rush to the remotest part of the house, where 
 she would wring her hands and cry out. 
 
 In that little room from which she had 
 just fled in her anguish the girl knew there 
 lay the one being in the world who could put 
 a glamour on e very-day life for her. 
 
 Marietta would have said she did " not 
 know the words to it," but she was keenly 
 alive to the fact of that indescribable " pri- 
 meval magnetism " which was always a part 
 of Daily's personality, and which had drawn 
 and held the New England girl with unbreak- 
 able cords. As Marietta stood there in the 
 far part of the house, the memory of how 
 Dally had been to her from the very first 
 how warm, how sweet, how audaciously ten- 
 der overwhelmed her anew. 
 
 The next morning the man who took Mr. 
 Dodson's place for the time brought Mrs. 
 Lander. The telegram had reached her so 
 that she could take the night-boat for Fall 
 River. 
 
 Marietta was watching for her, and for an-
 
 276 DALLY 
 
 other. Mrs. Lander was wrapped in furs, 
 and seemed like an invalid. She sat down 
 in the sitting-room, and fixed her eyes on 
 Marietta some moments before she spoke. 
 
 "They will let me see her?" she said, in a 
 whisper. Then she leaned her head forward 
 on her hands, and the elegant figure shook 
 with a sorrow that its owner half-resented, 
 but to which she must yield. 
 
 " She crept into my very heart," she said 
 to herself. 
 
 The girl, standing near, tried to speak, but 
 could not. 
 
 Soon Mrs. Lander went to her room. She 
 became composed, and there came back to 
 her something of that manner which was 
 peculiarly her own, and to which Dally had 
 always been so susceptible. 
 
 Daily's face lighted almost brilliantly when 
 the lady bent over her and kissed her. But 
 Mrs. Lander could not sit down there qui- 
 etly. She glanced in wonder at Mrs. Jacobs. 
 She felt suffocated. She left the room, but 
 she was continually returning to it. 
 
 There was very little to do for Dally, and 
 what there was Mrs. Jacobs did with a touch 
 that was as firm as it was tender.
 
 DALLY 
 
 277 
 
 No one but Marietta knew that young 
 Graham came every hour or two to the door 
 to ask how Dally was ; that he hung about 
 in the fields near; that he drove furiously 
 for a mile or two away, and then returned ; 
 that he was suffering. 
 
 It was in the middle of the second night. 
 Mrs. Lander was walking softly back and 
 forth over the worn sitting-room carpet. 
 Marietta had for the moment fallen asleep 
 in her chair by the stove. In the little 
 bedroom Dally seemed to rest. The hound 
 lay on his mat. Often he turned his head 
 towards Mrs. Jacobs, who sat in her 
 place. 
 
 Mrs. Lander heard a quick but guarded 
 step approaching the house. She went si- 
 lently and opened the front door. Will 
 Winslow stepped over the threshold or, 
 rather, it seemed the ghost of him. 
 
 He was breathing heavily. Mrs. Lander 
 held out both hands to him. He did not 
 see them. He leaned against the wall, his 
 eyes on her eyes. 
 
 She seized his coat. Her heart melted at 
 what she saw in his gaze. Here, indeed, was 
 agony.
 
 278 DALLY 
 
 " She is yet with us," she said. " But, oh, 
 why are you so late ?" 
 
 " The message was delayed. I came the 
 first moment. Oh, I could have walked 
 faster than the cars moved !" 
 
 He was greatly broken. He tried hard to 
 become partially composed. 
 
 " I must see her." 
 
 Mrs. Lander's perception was rarely at 
 fault. She did not linger or make any in- 
 quiries as to the fitness of what she did. She 
 took Winslow's hand, and led him straight 
 to where Dally lay. 
 
 Mrs. Jacobs just glanced at him ; he saw 
 nothing save the face on the pillow. He 
 bent over it. Dally opened her eyes, and 
 met the look pouring upon her. She put 
 out her arms. Her face was suffused with a 
 love so absolute that it seemed almost to 
 smite with its glory those who saw it. 
 
 " Oh, my God !" cried Mrs. Jacobs, under 
 her breath. " Has she loved him so ?" 
 
 As for the man and woman, they said noth- 
 ing. 
 
 No need now for Winslow to explain how 
 he had resolved to wait until his graduation 
 before he offered his love in set terms. No
 
 DALLY 
 
 279 
 
 need to tell of his doubt and his suffering 
 when he knew of Graham's passion. No 
 need to make it understood that he had 
 wanted her to be free to accept that pas- 
 sion, if her heart so prompted. 
 
 Winslow felt that there was no need of 
 anything more on this earth. 
 
 Mrs. Lander had left the room. For the 
 first time Mrs. Jacobs turned to go, that these 
 two might be alone. But Daily's voice called 
 her, and the voice was almost strong and 
 quite joyful. 
 
 " Don't go, aunty," she said. " You see 
 Bill has come." 
 
 She put out one hand to Mrs. Jacobs; her 
 eyes remained fixed on her lover's face. 
 
 For a moment nothing seemed to stir in 
 the room, save that the dog came from his 
 place and put his nose up on the bed. 
 
 " Sam is glad, too," whispered Dally. 
 
 A few days later, and Marietta had gone 
 back to her home and to the care of her 
 mother. It did not seem as if anything had 
 changed, save in her heart. 
 
 Mrs. Lander went to New York. She tried 
 to take Mrs. Jacobs with her for a visit, but 
 the widow said her place was there as long
 
 280 DALLY 
 
 as she lived, and that perhaps God would 
 not make her live a great while. 
 
 When the depot carriage had driven off 
 with Mrs. Lander, Mrs. Jacobs sat down in 
 her old rocker and looked about her. To 
 her, also, it seemed as if nothing had changed 
 save in her heart. 
 
 Daily's dog came walking slowly from the 
 bedroom, and placed himself at her feet. He 
 looked up at her and whined. 
 
 THE END.
 
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