“Well, you might jest as well ’a’ run—I wanted you to take suthin’ for me.” Uncle William was feeling about in the darkness by the door.
“Oh—I didn’t know—” Her voice was very contrite now, and meek.
“I didn’t suppose you knew—but you could ’a’ waited.... Here they be!” He dragged forward a heavy sack of potatoes and untied the neck—“I told Harr’et I’d send her down a mess of new potatoes for breakfast,” he said. He dipped into the sack with generous hand—filling a basket that stood by the door.
The girl looked at it with round eyes.
“You ’d just as lives carry it along, wouldn’t you, Celia?”
She reached out her hand and lifted it a little. Then she looked at him.
“Like enough you need a little help with it,” said Uncle William wickedly. “Oh—George—” he stepped to the door. “You just give Celia a lift with this basket, won’t you!—It’s a little mite heavy for her.”
The young man appeared in the door. He lifted the basket with decisive hand and held out the other—“I’ll take that lantern,” he said.
She hesitated an instant—holding it a little behind her. Then she gave it up. “I can carry lanterns well enough.”
“I’ll take it,” replied George. He strode away over the rocks and she followed with little tripping steps that half ran to keep up.