"No, you don't," said Drusilla softly. "You want to live and you're glad to see me."
"I ain't! I tell you, I ain't! I called you charity!"
"Yes, but I didn't mind, and if I hadn't been charity, Elias Doane wouldn't 'a' found me, and I wouldn't be here goin' to take you home with me."
"What!" said the old lady, looking up. "What'd you say, Drusilla?"
"I said I'm goin' to take you home with me."
"You are—you are—going to take me away from here—here where all the ladies'll laugh at me because I'm charity? But—but—Oh, I'll have to come back again even if you do take me, I'll have to come back again and be—Oh, I want to die—I'd rather die!"
Drusilla took the hands from the wrinkled face and held them in her own.
"Now let me set here on the edge of the bed, and you listen to me, Mis' Abbott. When I got Barbara's letter last night, I jest set for hours thinkin' it all over, and it all come to me of a sudden. Why, I need you so bad, Mis' Abbott, I wonder how I got along without you all this time. You know I got a lot of young people at my house, and no one with sense but myself to watch over them, and we need some one like yourself bad, and if you won't come I'll have to look around for some one else, and it'll put me to a lot of trouble."
The old lady looked up wonderingly.
"But what can I do, Drusilla?"