Though the minister’s wife only remarked in a gentle voice, “I think my husband is up in the hay-mow—there is a nice breeze by the door,” she was ever after, to Chee, the ideal of a mother hardly remembered.
While leading her to the barn, the lady asked, “Do you mind going up by yourself?”
“Oh, no, no,” answered the little girl. It would be easier to confront the minister alone.
Chee found him lying on the hay with a book over his eyes. She furtively peeped at him several times from the top of the ladder. Finally she concluded he was not asleep.
“Mr. Green,” she called. Her voice was not high and clear like most children’s; it was strangely deep and rich. “Mr. Green,” she repeated.
He looked over his book, exclaiming, “Why, child, how you startled me!” Then in a gentler voice he added, “What brought you here, Little One?”
The pet name helped to ease her fluttering heart. She stepped nearer and quietly studied his face a minute.
“Can you keep a secret?” she asked, still watching him closely.
He was amused with his little visitor and replied, “For how long?”
“Forever,” came the instant, firm reply.