Mamie climbed in, and then stood perfectly still, for once, with nothing to say, looking at Cricket out of the tail of her eye. If Cricket had fallen on her and thrashed her soundly, she would have taken it without a murmur. But Cricket, of course, had no such idea. She stood for a moment, looking at her small enemy in silence, and then raced out of the barn, back to her beloved Eunice. She found her sitting up and looking very dazed and white. She had not the least idea what had happened to them, and was too confused to ask.
“Do you feel as if you could walk home?” asked Cricket, putting her arm very tenderly around her; “or will you stay here while I go for Mike to bring you home in the carriage? Or do you want to go into the farm-house, and get ’Manda to give you something?”
“I think—I’ll—go home,” said Eunice, her nerves decidedly shaken, and her head still dizzy from the effects of the blow. “I’ll—try—to walk.”
Cricket helped her up, and put her arm about her to steady her.
CHAPTER XXII.
MAMIE’S REPENTANCE.
Mamie went sneaking past them to the house and went into the kitchen where her mother was at work.
“Oh, ma!” she cried. “The girls has been in the barnyard where that cross cow is, ’n’ Cricket got knocked over the fence, and Eunice is most killed I guess, ’n’ I don’t b’lieve she kin walk home.”
“Got hooked! Law ful suz! You don’t say so!” and ’Manda hurriedly wiped her hands and ran out to the lane. The barn was not far from the house, but the kitchen was on the further side, so she had not noticed the children’s screams.
She ran to meet the girls and caught Eunice up in her strong arms. “You poor little dear,” she exclaimed. “I’ll carry you right along myself. Here, Cricket, you hang on to me too;” for Cricket was limping by this time, with her knee aching more every minute.
’Manda was very comforting, for she was too used to the children’s mishaps even to ask how things had happened. “Come in and rest a spell,” she coaxed, “and let me put some hot water on your head, poor dear.”