Huldah slipped down the stairs as blithe as a bird. This was keeping house in real earnest, and she loved it. She set to work to light the fire and tidy the stove first, then she went and fed the hens, and came back triumphantly, carrying three large eggs. When she had shown these to Mrs. Perry, and discussed their size and beauty—and surely there never had been such eggs found before—she went down and had her wash, and oh, how she did enjoy it! She wished she had a clean frock or apron to put on, too. But when she remembered all she had got, she felt ashamed of herself, for even thinking of wanting anything more.
In the scullery was a sweeping-brush, and the sight of it tempted her to sweep up the kitchen. She opened the door wide, to let in the sunshine and fresh air and the sweet scent of flowers, and then she went sweeping away, not only the doorstep, but the tiled path down the garden to the gate. For the moment she had forgotten her fear of being discovered. All here seemed so different, so safe and peaceful, and far away from her old unhappy life.
The sun was shining radiantly, drying up the dew on the flowers, and making the red-tiled path glow warmly; it seemed to fill the garden, the cottage, and all Huldah's world with cheerfulness. By the time she had finished sweeping, the kettle was singing, so Huldah got the teapot and warmed it. She even warmed the cup and saucer too, in her anxiety that Mrs. Perry should have her tea as hot as possible. Then she cut a slice of bread as neatly as she could and toasted it.
Dick was lying out in the sun, gnawing at the remains of his ham-bone, as happy as a dog could be. Huldah glanced out at him every now and then while she was toasting the bread, and tried to realise that they were the same two who only yesterday morning were thrashed so unmercifully—she, for giving Dick some bread and butter, and Dick for eating it, after which had followed that dreadful scene when her uncle Tom had kicked poor old helpless Charlie so cruelly, partly because the poor old horse moved slowly, but chiefly because he knew that it would hurt Huldah more than any beating or starving of herself could.
It hurt her so greatly that she felt she could not bear it any longer, and then and there made up her mind to run away. Half of Charlie's kicks and blows were given him, she knew, because they hurt and angered her. Perhaps, she thought, if she were gone life would become easier for him. So she went,—and that was only yesterday, and the only pang of feeling or remorse that she felt for what she had done was the loss of Charlie.
CHAPTER IV.
MISS ROSE.
"Do you think you could find your way to the vicarage?"
Huldah had given Mrs. Perry her breakfast, and taken her own, and now had gone up again to remove the cup and plate, and ask what more she could do. She was longing to make herself useful, that she might show how grateful she was for all that had been done for her.
"Yes, I'm sure I could," she answered, readily.