So the woman turned and left her—and the child’s eyes followed her.
XXXII
AND A VOICE
“Can you hear me, little Miss Harris?” The voice came from the dusky shed, high up against the wall.
But the child did not turn her head. “Yes—Mr. Achilles—I can hear you very well,” she said softly.
“Don’t look this way,” said the voice. “Get down and look at the chickens—and listen to what I tell you.”
The child dropped obediently to her knees, her head a little bent, her face toward the open light outside.
The woman, going about her work in the kitchen, looked out and saw her and nodded to her kindly—
The child’s lips made a little smile in return. They were very pale.