The keen eyes glittered, and the quick mind was caught by the subtlety of the suggestion. Here was a chance to play great lady; to return favours that long had been conferred upon her, and at the same time retain her respectability and dignity. It was a master stroke and Marcia Lowe felt a glow of self-appreciation.
"You can care for her, Miss Taber; you can see that Cynthia is properly looked after, and you can give Miss Walden the joy of her life in thinking that she is able to help you. It is a pardonable bit of deceit, but will you assist me?"
After a decent show of hesitation, Sally decided that she would and, at the close of the afternoon, was seated behind the little doctor—with her pitiful store of clothing, jogging in a bundle at her back, on the way to Stoneledge. Miss Lowe set her down at the trail leading up to the old crumbling house, with these words:
"If ever my uncle did a kind deed, for you, Miss Taber, do this for him now."
Toting up the hill, Sally's thoughts wandered back to Theodore Starr and settled on a certain dark, cold night when he sat in her cabin piling the wood on her fire, while she lay shivering with chill upon her wretched bed. All the charms had failed, the rabbit foot, under the dripping of the north end of the roof had not eased a single pang, and hope was about gone when Starr chanced by. He had meant to ask for a bite and a night's shelter, for he was worn by travel and service, but instead he sat beside her the night through and fought death by the bravery of his spirit and the homely task of keeping warm the shivering body. He had put his coat over her and aroused her to interest and courage.
"The Lord does not let one of us off until our day's work is done," he had said even when he himself feared Sally's duties were over.
"Ah' mighty right He war'," Sally now muttered, panting up the last rise. "I reckon I got something yet to do."
Her advent at Stoneledge was nothing less than consummate acting. Knocking at the kitchen door she responded to the call from within and stood before Ann Walden crouching by the fire, and Cynthia awkwardly trying to evolve an evening meal from some materials on the table.
"Miss Ann, I've come to ax mercy o' you."
Miss Walden laughed foolishly.