And thus she went on all during the task. Poor Celia was not struck, or really abused, as far as Dorothy could see. But she was sensitive, and the lashing of Mrs. Hogan’s coarse tongue hurt Celia more than physical punishment would have hurt some other child.
When the smoke of battle had passed away, and little Celia had washed out and hung up the dish-towels to dry on the line behind the stove, Dorothy took her on the settee beside her. Mrs. Hogan made no objection, nor did she scarcely speak to them as the evening advanced.
Dorothy whispered stories to the round-eyed child—Oh! she had had plenty of practise in story-telling while her brothers, Joe and Roger, were little. Celia was too old to care much for “The Little Rid Hin”, or “The Frog He Would A-Wooing Go”; but Dorothy could repeat “Aspinax; or, the Enchanted Dwarf” almost word for word, and the marvellous adventures of that appealing hero held Celia’s enthralled attention for the evening.
Perhaps Mrs. Hogan had been listening, too; for she never said a word about its being bedtime until the story was finished. All the time the snow had been beating against the house, while the wind moaned in the chimney and occasionally rattled a loose shutter.
It was really an awful night out, and Dorothy felt that she was being snowbound here in this lonely farmhouse. She was only afraid that Tavia and the other girls, as well as Mrs. Pangborn, would be frightened for her.
“I’ll be puttin’ youse in the spare room. ’Tis a betther bed than those above stairs,” said Mrs. Hogan. “I suppose ye’ll be willin’ to pay a mite extry for th’ accommidation? There’s a stove and a fire laid ready to light. Ye kin undress where ’tis war-r-rm, and I’ll heat the sheets for ye. In the marnin’ I’ll sind Celia down airly, an’ she kin light the fire for ye, Miss Dale. ’Tis goin’ to be a cold night, an’ we may be snowed ter th’ eaves by marnin.”
“Oh! I hope not,” replied Dorothy, warmly.
“Ye nade have no fear. There’s plenty of fuel and atein’, I’d have ye know.”
“But are you going to let me sleep down here all alone?” queried Dorothy.
“Sure, the upstairs rooms are not fit for the likes o’ ye,” said the woman, quickly. “And there’s no manes of heatin’ them. In the marnin’ ye’ll have a nice, hot fire to git up by. I’ll see that Cely lights it——”