“Hey?”
Growing wonder was displayed on Mrs. Trimmins’ flabby features and they lost their innocent, weak smile. “Ye don’t want nothin’?” she babbled.
“Why, no, Mrs. Trimmins!” cried the girl, cheerfully. “I just wanted to give the little folks a good time.”
Gradually an expression that Janice could not fathom was hardening Mrs. Trimmins’ face. A light flickered in her dull eyes. She slowly shook her head.
“Y’ don’t need ter bring we-uns anythin’ ter eat. We git our own vittles,” she drawled, yet with a note of finality that surprised Janice. “Mebbe ye mean well—ye’re only a gal. But jest ’cause we live po’ don’t make us objicts of charity, I wantcher should know. We-all are as good as you-all Yanks!”
“Oh, Mrs. Trimmins!” gasped Janice. “I had no intention of offering you charity, or of insulting you in any way. Do, do believe me! I just thought it would be nice to treat the children. I love children and I’d like to make friends with yours—if they will let me,” she added.
The woman looked at her as though she scarcely understood. “Wan’t it you-all that killed our old Towser?” she drawled.
“My machine killed him, and I was very sorry. But I guess you know how he came to get under the wheels of my car,” Janice said, with some sternness.
“Wal—I s’pose I do. That Jinny an’ Tom is alius up t’ capers.”
“But I’d like to have them look on me in a friendly way,” Janice urged, thrusting out the bag of goodies again. “Do, Mrs. Trimmins, give this to the children and tell them I left it with my best wishes.”