"Why did you say that, Alfaretta?" she said. "It was not true; you knew Mr. Ward could see your father." Then she turned back to her planting.
Alfaretta followed her, and, kneeling down by the border, began to grub at the intruding blades of grass, stopping to put her hand up to her eyes once in a while, which made her face singularly streaked and muddy.
"What is the matter, Alfaretta?" Helen asked, at last, coldly. She did not mean to be unkind, but she was troubled at the girl's untruthfulness.
Alfaretta wailed.
"Tell me," Helen said, putting her hand lightly on her shoulder. "Are you crying because you said what was not true?"
"'T ain't that!" sobbed Alfaretta.
"I wish, then, you would either stop, or go into the house." Helen's voice was stern, and Alfaretta looked at her with reproachful eyes; then covering her face with her hands, she rocked backwards and forwards, and wept without restraint.
"I'm afraid—I'm afraid he's going to take me away from here!"
"Take you away?" Helen said, surprised. "Why? Is the work too hard?"
"No—no ma'am," Alfaretta answered, choking.