Berry told her mother the story of finding the fugitive slave girl hiding on the side of the ridge, and Mrs. Arnold listened with a grave face. “It was so cold, Mother, and she was so shivery and frightened, I had to bring her home. And you said that of course we must help anyone who needed help,” Berry pleaded, half afraid, by her mother’s serious face, that she did not approve of Berry’s having brought the negro girl home.
“Of course, Berry dear, you did exactly right. It has begun to snow again, and the poor creature would have perished if you had not brought her to shelter. She looks half-starved,” and Mrs. Arnold wondered to herself at the courage of this young slave girl who had started out in midwinter, facing the dangers of the forest, of hunger and cold, and of probable pursuit, capture and punishment, rather than remain a slave.
“But you look as if you wished I hadn’t, Mother!” said Berry.
“Do I?” and Mrs. Arnold smiled at Berry’s troubled expression. “Well, my dear, I was wondering what we can do with Lily. You know slaveholders always try to find a runaway negro, and if Lily’s owner comes after her and finds her here, he would have a right to take her. That is the law, and we could not prevent her going.”
“It’s a horrid law!” Berry declared, and her mother promptly agreed. “But, Mother, perhaps Lily’s master may not even try to find her, and then Lily can stay here,” the little girl continued hopefully, and Mrs. Arnold assented, saying:
“We will see what Father says when he comes in. Of course the girl must stay here for the present.”
Mr. Arnold had gone to the little clearing further down the ridge where stood the rough log shelter that he had built for the cow, and when he entered the cabin Berry and her mother were eager to tell him of Berry’s encounter with the negro girl, and that Berry had promised to befriend her, and had brought her home; and greatly to Berry’s delight, and to the relief of Mrs. Arnold, he did not appear to be greatly troubled by Lily’s presence in the cabin.
“We’ll find out more about her, when the girl is well rested. Very likely her owner won’t bother to look for her,” he said; “but I don’t know what we can do with her,” he added.
“Oh, Father! There are lots of things Lily could do,” Berry assured him eagerly, quite as if she had known the negro girl all her life, and Mr. and Mrs. Arnold smiled at their little daughter’s evident adoption of the fleeing Lily.
The wind, thrashing among the branches of the forest trees, and the cold rain that had followed the fall of snow, made the blazing fire in the Arnolds’ sitting-room seem even more pleasant than usual that evening, as Berry drew her small rocking-chair near the hearth. Berry’s thoughts were occupied with Lily: she was sure that Lily must have had wonderful adventures, and looked forward to hearing them. She had entirely forgotten Mollie’s “secret,” and was earnestly planning how Lily could be provided with clothing. While Berry’s thoughts were filled by this new adventure that had befallen her, Mr. and Mrs. Arnold were talking of the Union armies, and of the troops under General Ulysses S. Grant, a quiet, unostentatious officer, whose name was to be linked with the mightiest achievements of the Civil War.