"Little Miss Walden," he said courteously, "I've just been a-hearing how you-all suffered from the storm. Mr. Greeley done told me the old lady is all around cracked!"
"Cracked!" The mountain interpretation of this word flooded Cynthia's consciousness like a flame that made plain all the subtle fear of the past few weeks. That was it, of course! "All around cracked!"
"Oh!" came in a shuddering cry; "oh! oh! oh!"
"Now don't take on that-er-way," comforted Crothers, coming nearer. "Us-all mean to stand by you. I expect you-all ain't over-rich either, and we-all can help in a right practical way. What do you say, little Miss Cyn, to coming down to the factory and doing light work and getting mighty good pay?"
A new horror shook Cynthia's pallid face; but Crothers met it with a laugh.
"Don't take on without reason," he soothed. "Ain't I done something for the mountings?" he asked; "I know what some folks think about me, little Miss Cyn, but you be a right peart miss, and I ask you straight and true—wouldn't things be worse, bad as they be, if I didn't take folks and pay 'em? Chillun is better 'long o' their mothers, when all's said and done, and they don't have to come if they don't want to, and when they do come the work don't hurt them. Just 'nough to keep 'em from mischief and me a-paying their parents for what is play to the young-uns."
Cynthia thought of Sandy's moan over the baby-things of the factory and her eyes filled. She did not know, perhaps Sandy did not understand, but once he had said to her during a flight of fancy:
"Some day I'm going to gather them-all away from old Smith Crothers and save them!"
"Come and see for yourself, little Miss Cyn."
The tone was friendly and kind, and the actual necessity of the future gripped Cynthia.