“It was only on the back of my neck. It didn’t hurt me much. It only frightened me.”
“I didn’t know it was you. If I had known, I am sure I shouldn’t have done it. But it was wicked and contemptible anyhow, to any girl.”
I broke down again, half from shame, half from the happiness of having cast my sin from me by confessing it. Elsie held my hand now.
“Never mind; never mind,” she said; “you won’t do it again.”
“I would rather be hanged,” I sobbed.
That moment a pair of strong hands caught hold of mine, and the next I found myself being hoisted on somebody’s back, by a succession of heaves and pitches, which did not cease until I was firmly seated. Then a voice said—
“I’m his horse again, Elsie, and I’ll carry him home this very night.”
Elsie gave a pleased little laugh; and Turkey bore me to the fireside, where my father was talking away in a low tone to the old woman. I believe he had now turned the tables upon her, and was trying to convince her of her unkind and grumbling ways. But he did not let us hear a word of the reproof.
“Eh! Turkey, my lad! is that you? I didn’t know you were there,” he said.
I had never before heard my father address him as Turkey.