“Sure, I’ve tackled har-r-rder jobs,” she said. “But mebbe I kin get Jim Bentley to put the hosses t’ th’ pung. But ye’ll pay for thim?”
“I’d gladly pay what you ask——”
“Tin dollars, then,” said the woman, quickly. “’Tis wuth it, to take ye home through the snow this night.”
“I—I’ll pay it, Mrs. Hogan,” said Dorothy, faintly. “At least, Mrs. Pangborn will pay it. I haven’t the money.”
“Well! I’ll see Jim—Is he out to the stables, Cely?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the child, who had been gazing at Dorothy all this time with wide open eyes. “But one of the hosses is down, ma’am.”
“What’s that? What’s that ye tell me?” exclaimed the woman, turning on Celia, angrily. “Down in the stall, ye mane?”
“Yes, ma’am. I saw it. And Mr. Bentley, he was sayin’ nawful things about it——”
“Sayin’ what?” demanded Mrs. Hogan.
“He was swearin’ jes’ awful,” pursued the little girl, in an awed whisper.