CHAPTER VI.
"I have decided not to go upon this journey, Laura," were the first words the Motherkin spoke after she had given her a morning embrace, as the child came briskly in haste to receive it, and hear the plans which she supposed Grim and the Motherkin had made after she had gone to bed the night previous.
"Oh, dear Motherkin," exclaimed Laura, "how can you forget those poor little suffering creatures! My heart has ached for them even in my dreams. All night I have been climbing rocks and wading brooks to get to them, and now you tell me I cannot go. Oh, it is too, too hard!"
"Gently, gently, Lady Laura. I have not said you could not go."
"Well, what do you mean, dear Motherkin? Is Grim to go?"
"No, Grim cannot go either," said the Motherkin, with a peculiar little smile upon her face; and Grim twisted the scarlet tassel of his cap mysteriously. Laura looked at one, then at the other: what did it mean?
"Are you sure you wish to befriend those children, Laura?" asked the old lady.
Still more surprised, and not a little indignant, Laura answered, quickly, "Indeed I do; I long to aid them."
"And you are willing to make some sacrifice, some unusual effort, to do this?"