“Shall I wash the dishes, Mother Mercy?”
“No, sissy, you needn’t. We grown folks’ll fix that. If you want something to do, an’ are tired of out-doors, you can set right down yonder an’ rock Mis’ Waldron’s baby to sleep. By and by, Abel’s got a job for you will suit you to a T!”
Kitty was by no means tired of out-doors, but a baby to attend was even a greater rarity than a holiday; so she sat down beside the cradle, which its mother had brought in her great wagon, and gently swayed the little occupant into a quiet slumber. Then she began to listen to the voices about her, and presently caught a sentence which puzzled her.
“Fifty dollars is a pile of money. It’s more ’n ary Indian ever was worth. Let alone a sulky squaw.”
“Yes it is. An’ I need it. I need it dreadful,” assented Mercy, forgetful of the Sun Maid’s presence in the room.
“Well, I, for one, should be afraid of her,” observed another visitor, clattering the knives she was wiping. “I wouldn’t have a squaw livin’ so near my door, an’ that’s a fact.”
Kitty now understood that these people were speaking of Wahneenah, and listened intently.
“Oh! I ain’t afraid of her. Not that. But I never did like her, nor she me. She’s sullen an’ top-lofty. Why, you’d think I wasn’t no better than the dirt under her feet, to see her sometimes. She was good to the childern, I’ll ’low, afore me an’ Abel took ’em in. But that’s four years ago, an’ I’ve cared for ’em ever since. Sometimes I think she’s regular bewitched ’em, they dote on her so. If you believe me, they’ll listen to her leastest word sooner ’n a whole hour of my talk!”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” quietly commented one young matron, who was jogging her own baby to sleep by tipping her chair violently back and forth upon its four legs.
Continued Mercy: