When the little girl knelt down to say her prayers, a feeble smile illuminated the woman's face. However, she was still listless and uninterested, until the latter portion of the petition.
"O Lord," 'Tilda Jane was praying earnestly, almost passionately, "forgive me for all this sin an' 'niquity. I just had to run away. I couldn't give up that little dog that thou didst send me. I'll live square as soon as I get takin' care o' that ole man. Bless the matron an' make her forgive me, an' bless all the lady-boards—Mis' Grannis 'specially, 'cause she'll be maddest with me. Keep me from tellin' any more lies. Amen."
When 'Tilda Jane rose from her knees, Mrs. Minley's breath was coming and going quickly, and there was a curious light in her eyes. "Mrs. Grannis, did you say?" she asked, shortly. "Mrs. Grannis, over Beaver Dam way?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What has she got to do with the asylum?"
"She's the fust lady-board. She sits behind the table an' pounds the hammer."
"And she'll be maddest with you?"
"Yes, ma'am. She says children has too much liberties."
"Hurry into bed," said Mrs. Minley, briefly, and taking up the lamp, and without a word of farewell, she disappeared from the room.
'Tilda Jane cowered down between the cold sheets. Then she stretched out a hand to touch the precious bundle on the chair by her bed. And then she tried to go to sleep, but sleep would not come.