“Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him!” said Dawtie.
She raised her head. The color had come back to her face; her lips had ceased to tremble; she stepped on steadily to where, a few yards from the door, the spring-cart was waiting her. She bade her mistress good-bye, then turned to Andrew and said:
“Good-bye, An'rew! I am not afraid.”
“I am going with you, Dawtie,” said Andrew.
“No, sir, you can't do that!” said the policeman; “at least you can't go in the trap!”
“No, no, Andrew!” cried Dawtie. “I would rather go alone. I am quite happy now. God will do with me as He pleases!”
“I am going with you,” said Alexa, “if the policeman will let me.”
“Oh, yes, ma'am! A lady's different!—I've got to account for the prisoner you see, sir!”
“I don't think you should, ma'am,” said Dawtie. “It's a long way!”
“I am going,” returned her mistress, decisively.