"'Taint no use wantin," said Dolly. "I'll never get there, nor Lem neither. Sing some more."
"We'll sing 'Rest for the weary,' 'cause she said she was so tired," said Maggie.
When they were through, Mr. Bradford stepped from behind the bushes which had hidden him until now.
Dolly started when she saw him, and the old look, half guilty, half defiant, came back to her eyes. But she soon found she need not be afraid; for, bending over her, he said, kindly,—
"My poor girl, you are in great pain, I fear. How did you hurt yourself?"
"Didn't hurt myself," grumbled Dolly, still suspicious, and shrinking from that grave, steady look.
"Then you are ill," said Mr. Bradford, noticing the burning cheeks and heavy eyes, "you must not lie here, or you will be worse. Can you go home?"
"I shan't go home," said Dolly, passionately, and with another quick glance over her shoulder.
Mr. Bradford did not insist, though he meant she should obey him, but said, kindly,—
"Are you still hungry? Would you like some roasted corn?"