"You can go with the lady," said the woman, giving her a look that the child seemed to understand, "and I will just sit on the fence and look afther ye."
"Is that your mother?" said I, stooping to pluck a daisy at the little one's feet.
"Y-e-s," she said slowly, but without looking me in the face.
"No she is not," said I. "Don't be afraid of me; if you want to get away from her I can help you. Didn't she steal you away?"
The child nodded her head, without speaking, and looked timidly over her shoulder, to see if any one was near to hear me.
"Is your own mother alive?" I asked.
She nodded her head again, and her sweet little lip quivered.
"Hush!" said I, "don't cry. I'll get you away from her. Keep quiet. Don't talk any more now. Just pick up the pears in your apron, that I knock off this tree."
I climbed the pear tree and peeping over the fence, saw good honest "Jim," the "man of all work" at the farm, sitting down in the shade to rest, with old Bruno curled up at his feet.
I tossed a pear at his red head. Jim looked up. I put my finger on my lip, saying, "Creep round by the fence, Jim, and get up to the house; go in at the back door and wait till I come up. Don't say a word to anybody. I'll tell you why when I get back."