“I ain’t cryin’,” said his wife, wiping all traces of the tears from her large face, and sitting very straight in her chair, as she got her company face on.
“Oh!” Mr. Brown flung wide the big door. “How do, Hubbard.” Then his eye fell on a very small boy with big blue eyes, who was crowding up anxiously, and, not waiting to be invited, was already in the kitchen and staring around.
“You must ’xcuse him,” said Young Hubbard, “he’s lost his sister.”
The farmer’s wife jumped out of her chair, and seized the boy’s arm. “We’ve got her,” she said; “don’t look so; she’s all safe here.”
“I must take her to Mamsie,” said Davie, lifting his white face.
“Yes—yes,” said Mrs. Brown, while the old farmer and the young one stood by silently. “You come in here, an’ see for yourself how safe she is.”
Davie rushed into the bedroom and gave one bound over to the big bed. Phronsie was just getting up to the middle of it, and wiping her eyes. When she saw Davie she gave a little crow of delight. “I’m going to Mamsie,” she announced, as she threw her arms around him.
“Yes,” said Davie, staggering off with her to the kitchen.
“You’re goin’ to have your dinner first,” said the farmer’s wife in alarm. “Gracious me—th’ very idea of goin’ without a bite,” she added, bustling about for more dishes and knives and forks.
“We can’t,” said Davie, struggling along to the door. “I must get her to Mamsie.”