Suddenly I became conscious that some one was staring at me. I rose hastily, dabbing my eyes, and confronted Jemima. Her mouth and eyes were wide open.
“You ain’t cryin’?” she gasped. “You! Land o’ livin’!” and then she recovered herself and added apologetically, “I guess you didn’t hear me comin’, these wood trails is so soft. Won’t you set down again? I wouldn’t go back with my eyes red if I was you, because there are two or three gentlemen to your camp and they think you’re so beautiful I’d hate to have them see you when you ain’t.”
I meekly resumed my seat and Jemima perched herself on a log opposite. I was rather glad of the diversion, now that my grief had spent itself, and Jemima always amuses me.
“You have not gone home?” I asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m not goin’. I’m goin’ to stay and help Mis’ Hunter. There’s an awful lot of work here in summer, and her other hired girl’s not very strong.”
“Well, I am glad you have found a place to suit you. I presume you eat with Mrs. Hunter and her family?”
“Yes’m.” Then she added, with uncontrollable curiosity, “What were you cryin’ for, anyway?”
“My brother was very ill again last night and I am terribly anxious about him.”
“And do you high-toned English folks with titles love each other and have troubles just like us plain folks?” she demanded.
I could not help laughing. “Why not?” I asked.