“Don't run away, Nancy,” pleaded the girl, “I know what ye think; ye think yer Uncle Steve's after yer, but ye can be sure he ain't. Yer Uncle Steve's dead, an' I do'no's ye need try ter be very sorry.”
Nancy came back to where Sue was standing.
“Is it true?” she asked.
“Honest an' true,” said Sue, “an' all yer aunt wants me ter git yer fer is because she's sick, an' she wants ter see yer. Oh, if yer could see her, Nancy, ye'd hate ter say ‘no.’ She keeps askin' fer yer all day, an' when I told her I'd find yer, an' ask yer ter come an' jest let her look at yer, she looked brighter'n she had fer days.”
“But I'm afraid to go to the city to see her,” said Nancy.
“She ain't in the city. She's in a town only a little ways from here. Ye could go with me in just no time, an' ye'd do her so much good.”
“Why?”
Nancy asked the question in wonder. It seemed strange that her aunt, who had never loved her, should now long to see her.
“She's got something she wants ter give yer, an' she's got something she wants ter say, an' she says she can't rest till she sees ye. It's her worryin' that won't let her git well. Ef she could see ye fer a little talk, an' tell ye what she wants ter tell, I guess she'd git well right off. Seems ef ye'd ought ter come with me, ef it'll do so much good.”
Nancy's eyes were full of tears, and her sensitive lips quivered.