It frightened her; not because she cared for the little snake, but because the miners believe it an evil omen if a snake crawls into a house. She was superstitious, the poor old ignorant woman; and although she had plenty of courage in every other way, she was afraid of a “bad sign.”
However, she drove the snake away, and went about her household tasks. Tim was sent off with the miners’ breakfast—her other grandchildren were fed and sent out to pick out the shining bits of metal from a heap of stones, and the strong old woman bent over a wash-tub to do her week’s washing. She had got about half through when she, fairly tired, let the soap fall, rubbed her arms dry, and thought she would look at her spinach and see how it was growing.
“Oh! gracious goodness!” what did she see?
Who was there nibbling the spinach, eating off the young water cresses, and taking an occasional shy glance at the beet tops, and shaking his pretty furry ears? Who but Primrose!
“I knew it! I knew it!” said Granny Luke. “I knew when I saw that black snake that I was going to have bad luck! That is an evil spirit—and he has come after me! Oh, hou! ough! hou! Tim!”
Granny Luke’s courage was all gone. Primrose was dead—and she had eaten him; yes, two steaks out of his hind legs. But there he was, with little horns growing out of his forehead!
But Primrose—for it was he, and no other—hearing her familiar voice, had leaped the paling and ran to lick the kind hand that had fed his infant deership.
GRANNY LUKE LOSES HER COURAGE.
This was too much, and Granny Luke fainted dead away; and when Tim came home he found her on the ground in front of the cabin, and Primrose was licking her forehead with his cool, rough tongue.