“Well, Cis, thou hast there a load!” was Margaret’s greeting.
The little girl turned her head to see who spoke, but she only said gravely, “Ay.” A very grave, demure little maiden she seemed to be.
“Whither go you?” asked Alice Mount.
“We’re going home,” said the small boy.
“What, a matter of five miles, with that jar? Why, you’ll drop in the road! Couldn’t nobody have fetched it but you?”
“There wasn’t nobody,” said the little boy; and his sister looked up to say, in her grave way,—
“You know Mother’s gone to Heaven.”
“And who looks after you?”
“Will looks after Baby,” answered Cissy demurely, “and I look after Will.”
“And who looks after thee?” asked Alice much amused.