“Oh, ma!”
“Well, get to bed now. He’s comin’ in the mornin’ to see you.”
She took up the lamp and stood holding it irresolutely.
“Pills,” she said, looking embarrassed, “You won’t ever tell him that I—— that I——”
“Never, ma!” exclaimed the girl, earnestly; “as long as I live.”
“All right, then. Look out! You’re droppin’ tallo’ from your candle! Don’t hold it so crooked, child! I wouldn’t like him to laugh about it. Good-night.”
As she passed through the kitchen she called out: “Oh, Pills! Mr. Jordan brought in a mess of trout. We’ll have ’em fried for breakfast.”
The girl came running after her mother, and threw her arms around her.
“Oh, ma, are you sure you don’t care a bit?”
“Not a bit,” said Mrs. Mansfield, kissing her heartily. “I just thought he ought to be in the family. I’m glad it’s turned out this way. Now, you go to bed, an’ don’t forget to roll up your bangs.”