“Lemonade?” repeated Cricket, lifting her heavy eyes in surprise. “When I’m sick?” for she associated, naturally, any illness with medicines. “Won’t it hurt me?”
“Bless your little heart, no. It won’t hurt you a mite. It’ll settle your stomick wonderful, that’s all. ’Taint very sweet.”
’Manda slipped her hand under the pillow and raised the aching head so gently that Cricket scarcely felt it move. She drained the tumbler obediently, though the lemonade was rather sour. Then she nestled down into the soft pillow with a sigh of relief. ’Manda sat by her, waving a big palm-leaf fan, with a slow, even motion. The silence and the darkness soon began to soothe the throbbing pain, and Cricket at last dropped into a fitful doze, that soon became a sound sleep.
An hour passed, and ’Manda heard the children’s voices as they came across the field again. She tiptoed softly from the room,’sh-ing them all, with uplifted finger.
“She’s jest dropped asleep, poor little mite,” she said, in answer to their anxious, whispered inquiries. “Yes, Miss Marjorie, you jest leave her to-night, an’ ’Gustus John, he’ll fetch her in town in the mornin’, all right.”
“Sha’n’t I stay with her?” asked Eunice.
“There ain’t no need, Miss Eunice, I’d be proper glad to hev you, but there ain’t no need, ’less you particular wish it. I’ll jest admire to hev Cricket stay, and take care of her myself. La, suz! there won’t be no need of anybody’s takin’ care, I rather guess, for like’s not, when she wakes up, her headache’ll be all gone, an’ prob’bly by six o’clock she’ll be wantin’ to go after the caows. No, Miss Eunice, you kin jest as well as not go right along with the others, an’ be sure an’ tell your ma that I jest admire to hev Cricket stay.”
“I know you’ll take good care of her,” said Marjorie, hesitating. “I only hope Cricket won’t feel lonely or homesick when she wakes up.”
“Oh, law! no; don’t you worrit now, Miss Marjorie. She needs her sleep out, thet’s all. The hot sun an’ the berries was too much for her. What a sight of berries you’ve got! Never wuz a better crop than this year. Pity yer missin’ the season.”
The party looked with much satisfaction at the result of their labours. Four six-quart pails overflowing with luscious fruit stood in a row on the steps, and besides that, their lunch baskets were filled to the brim.