"Nothin more can be said then; but it is a disgrace to the neighborhood to have a home for waifs come to it."
Drusilla flushed hotly.
"Don't you call it that; and don't you call it a 'home'! It's a home, but not the kind you mean, and I won't hear it called that."
"I wash my hands of the affair. You will get into trouble, and when you do you may call on me."
Drusilla rose and laid her hand on Mr. Thornton's arm.
"I'm sure to get into trouble," she said. "I always was a hand to do that. But when I do you'll be the true, kind friend I know you are, and help me out."
Mr. Thornton smiled, against his will, as he looked down into the earnest face of the little old lady. He patted the hand on his arm.
"Miss Doane, you are causing me a lot of trouble not connected with the business of the estate; but of course I'll always help you. Every one will—they can't help it."
Drusilla drew a sigh of relief.
"I'm glad to know you ain't agin me, 'cause I like you, even when you almost always come here to scold me. You ain't near so stiff inside as you are outside. We're friends now, ain't we, babies or no babies?"