"My Maggie came to bring you her banana," said Bessie, gently. "I couldn't give it to you, 'cause it was not mine; but when I told her you didn't have any thing to eat for 'most two days, she was sorry for you, and said you should have it."
"It's good. I like it," said Dolly, as Maggie, summoning all her courage, stepped slowly towards her and gave her the banana.
"Dolly," said Bessie, "will you believe now that we are sorry for you, and want to be kind to you?"
"I s'pose so," answered Dolly, gruffly, as if she were still half unwilling or unable to believe that they meant what they said.
They stood in silence, watching the half-famished creature as she eat her fruit, then Bessie said,—
"Dolly, why don't you go home?"
"No, I shan't neither, I aint goin' to stir," she answered snappishly, with one quick, suspicious glance at the children, and another towards the trunk of the old tree against which she leaned. "I've got a right here, if I've a mind to stay. 'Taint your ground nor Porter's neither."
"Oh, no!" said Bessie, "I did not mean that, only you have such a bad cold, and it hurts you so to move, and these rocks are so hard, I should think you'd be more comfortable in your bed at home."
"Guess my home's a sight more comfortable than these rocks, aint it?" said Dolly, with a grin. "One's about as good as t'other."
"Poor Dolly!" said Bessie, "I wish you had a better home, and some one to care for you and Lem."