She quite agreed, however, with Friend Morris, who said when she heard the story:
“I think the most sensible member of the party was Maggie Medicine, who took thee safely there and back.”
And to this Friend Lydia always nodded “yes.”
[CHAPTER IX—Cobbler, Cobbler, Mend My Shoe]
“Lydia,” called Mrs. Blake one morning, from the lower porch where she sat sewing, “what makes you walk on the side of your foot?”
Lydia was carrying the heavy watering-can round to her garden-bed. There had been no rain for weeks, and the leaves and the grass and the flowers all bore a coating of fine dust. Last night Lydia had forgotten to water her garden, and now she was hurrying to do it before the sun crept round the corner of the house.
But at the sound of her mother’s voice, she set the can on the gravel path and sat herself down beside it.
“Because, Mother, there’s a hole in my shoe, and the pebbles get in,” she answered. “Look,” and she lifted her foot so that Mother could see the sole of her little canvas shoe.
“Sure enough, I see it,” said Mrs. Blake. “Go in and change your shoes, Lydia, and then run up to the shoemaker’s, and see whether he can mend this old pair. But water your garden first, and be sure you put the can away.”
Lydia hurried through her task, and then, stealing softly behind Mrs. Blake, put her arms about her mother’s neck.