“The child is so good and loving,” she went on a little hurriedly, “that it makes it all the harder—but I must do something. Only this morning she told the minister that she thought Houghtonsville was a ‘bully place,’ and that the people were ‘tiptop.’ Her table manners—poor child! I ran away from the table and cried like a baby the first time I saw her eat; and yet—perhaps the very next thing she does will be so dainty and sweet that I could declare the other was all a dream. Doctor, what shall I do?”
“I know, I know,” nodded the man. “I have seen it myself. But, dear, she’ll learn—she’ll learn wonderfully fast. You’ll see. It’s in her—the gentleness and the refinement. She’ll have to be corrected, some, of course; it’s out of the question that she shouldn’t be. But she’ll come out straight. Her heart is all right.”
Mrs. Kendall laughed softly.
“Her heart, doctor!” she exclaimed. “Just there lies the greatest problem of all. The one creed of her life is to ‘divvy up,’ and how I’m going to teach her ordinary ideas of living without shattering all her faith in me I don’t know. Why, Harry,”—Mrs. Kendall’s voice was tragic—“she gazes at me with round eyes of horror because I have two coats and two hats, and two loaves of bread, and haven’t yet ‘divvied up’ with some one who has none. So far her horror is tempered by the fact that she is sure I didn’t know before that there were any people who did not have all these things. Now that she has told me of them, she confidently looks to me to do my obvious duty at once.”
The doctor laughed.
“As if you weren’t always doing things for people,” he said fondly. Then he grew suddenly grave. “The dear child! I’m afraid that along with her education and civilization her altruism will get a few hard knocks. But—she’ll get over that, too. You’ll see. At heart she’s so gentle and—why, what”—he broke off with an unspoken question, his eyes widely opened at the change that had come to her face.
“Oh, nothing,” returned Mrs. Kendall, almost despairingly, “only if you’d seen Joe Bagley yesterday morning I’m afraid you’d have changed your opinion of her gentleness. She—she fought him!” Mrs. Kendall stumbled over the words, and flushed a painful red as she spoke them.
“Fought him—Joe Bagley!” gasped the doctor. “Why, he’s almost twice her size.”
“Yes, I know, but that didn’t seem to occur to Margaret,” returned Mrs. Kendall. “She saw only the kitten he was tormenting, and—well, she rescued the kitten, and then administered what she deemed to be fit punishment there and then. When I arrived on the scene they were the center of an admiring crowd of children,”—Mrs. Kendall shivered visibly—“and Margaret was just delivering herself of a final blow that sent the great bully off blubbering.”
“Good for her!”—it was an involuntary tribute, straight from the heart.