Miss Hester sighed. "I am afraid so."
"No, you won't," Ruth assured her. "You can teach me to make them when I am bigger and then, when Billy gets to keeping store, we won't either of us have to make them, for, when we get hungry we can go down to Billy's and eat crackers and raisins and things. I'm coming, Billy."
For Billy, grown impatient, had gone out into the yard and was calling her.
Miss Hester looked after her as she ran out. "Amanda need not discourage me about Ruth," she said with a faint little smile; "I'll have the child's love and confidence yet." Then she sat down to her old desk and pored over a little pile of papers which she drew from a pigeon-hole.
Meanwhile, Billy had preceded Ruth to the wood-shed and was standing over something in a dark corner.
"Look," he whispered, "ain't they the cunningest you ever did see?"
And Ruth, tiptoeing nearer, saw four little fat puppies cuddled up against their small mongrel mother.
"Oh, aren't they dear?" exclaimed the child. "Where did they come from, Billy? Who does the mother belong to?"
"Nobody, I reckon. She's just a stray."
"Oh, like us," said Ruth in a sympathetic voice, as she leaned down to stroke the little creature. "Has she had anything to eat, Billy?"