"I would—if Uncle Richard hadn't forbidden," said Noll; "do you think you have any medicines that can help the child, Hagar?"
"Don' know," shaking her turbaned head. "Ef 'twas rheumatiz, or ef 'twas a cut, or ef 'twas one o' dem yer colds, Hagar'd 'spect to know; but can't tell nuffin 'bout fevers, nohow. 'Tw'u'd be jes' as de Lord's willin'!"
"Will you go, or send something in the morning?" queried Noll.
"Ef it's pleasant, honey, Hagar'll go wid ye. Yer supper's waiting fur ye!"
Noll sighed, and did not stir. The misery which he had seen in Dirk's wretched hut haunted him.
Hagar poured out the boy's cup of tea, waited a little space, then returned it to its steaming pot again.
"Come, yer supper's cold 'nough, now, honey," said she, coming up to Noll's seat. "What ye waitin' fur? Oh, chile, ye grows more'n' more like yer poor father. T'inkin' ob de mis'ry ober dar; ain't ye?"
"Such misery, too!" said Noll.
"Well, dar's mis'ry eberywhere!" said Hagar; "can't go nowhere but what ye'll find it. Yer Uncle Dick has had mis'ry 'nough in his day, but 'tain't done him no good 'tall. Jes' froze his heart up harder'n a stone."
"It isn't all stone," said Noll.