“I thought—as you was goin’ ’long my way”—puffed Miranda, “I’d jes’ step along beside you. You don’t mind, do you?”
Marcia looked troubled. If she should say she did then Miranda would think it queer and perhaps suspect something.
She tried to smile and ask how far Miranda was going.
“Oh, I’m goin’ to hunt fer wild strawberries,” said the girl nonchalantly clattering a big tin pail.
“Isn’t it early yet for strawberries?” questioned Marcia.
“Well, mebbe, an’ then ag’in mebbe ’tain’t. I know a place I’m goin’ to look anyway. Are you goin’ ’s fur ’s the Green Tavern?”
Miranda’s bright eyes looked her through and through, and Marcia’s truthful ones could not evade. Suddenly as she looked into the girl’s homely face, filled with a kind of blind adoration, her heart yearned for counsel in this trying situation. She was reminded of Miranda’s helpfulness the time she ran away to the woods, and the care with which she had guarded the whole matter so that no one ever heard of it. An impulse came to her to confide in Miranda. She was a girl of sharp common sense, and would perhaps be able to help with her advice. At least she could get comfort from merely telling her trouble and anxiety.
“Miranda,” she said, “can you keep a secret?”
The girl nodded.
“Well, I’m going to tell you something, just because I am so troubled and I feel as if it would do me good to tell it.” She smiled and Miranda answered the smile with much satisfaction and no surprise. Miranda had come for this, though she did not expect her way to be so easy.