“Here?—Jemmy Three! I guess you’re failin’ in your mind, honey.”
“Well, I’m glad he isn’t. I don’t want anybody but you—Uncle Jem, how can I get Blossom across the sea?” Judith’s eager face followed up this rather astonishing speech. Uncle Jem turned to meet them both.
“Wal, there’s the old dory—or ye mought swim,” he answered gravely. He was used to Judy’s speeches.
“Because there’s a great man over there that makes lame little children walk—he can make Blossom. There’s a little child down at the hotel that he made walk. I’ve got to take her across, Uncle Jem—I mean Blossom. But I don’t know how.”
“No, deary, no; I do’ know’s I much wonder. It would be consid’able great of a job fur ye. An’ I allow it would take a mint o’ money.”
Strange Judith had not thought of the money! Money was so very hard indeed to get, and a mint of it—
“Not a mint—don’t say a mint, Uncle Jem!” she pleaded. She went up close to the bed and took one of the gnarled old hands in hers and beat it with soft impatience up and down on the quilt.
“Not a mint!” she repeated.
“Wal, deary, wal, we’ll see,” comforted the old man. “You set down in that cheer there an’ out with it, the hull story! Mind ye don’t leave out none o’ the fixin’s! Ye can’t rightly see things without ye have all the fixin’s by ye. Now, then, deary—”
Judith told the thrilling little story with all the details at her command. At its end Uncle Jem’s eyes were shining as hers had shone.