The sick feeling continued, and she gave Ruth Ann only a feeble "yes," when she suddenly turned and threw the light of the lantern on her with a brisk, "Don't you want to know what lie I'm goin' to tell 'bout your leavin'?
"I'm not goin' to tell any lie," Ruth Ann continued, triumphantly. "If you've got grace enough to hold your tongue, other folks'll do all your lyin' for you. Sister'll come home, Mis' Grannis with her, prob'bly. They'll go ravagin' in the spare room. They'll come ravagin' out—'Ruth Ann, that young one's run off!' An' I'll be busy with my pots an' pans, an' all I'll have to say is: 'Do tell!' or, 'Why, how you talk!' An' sister'll rave an' tear, an' run round like a crazy thing, an' look at Mis' Grannis out o' the corner of her eye."
Ruth Ann's shoulders shook with enjoyable laughter, but if she had turned suddenly she would have seen a look of unmistakable disgust flitting over the face behind her.
She did turn suddenly a few minutes later, but the look was gone. "Here, give me that dog," she said, peremptorily.
The little girl protested, but the woman took him, and again they plodded on in silence.
"Here we be," she said, after they had been walking for an hour longer.
'Tilda Jane raised her head. The narrow road had abruptly expanded into a circular clearing, and in the midst of the clearing stood a small wooden building.
Ruth Ann walked up to it, handed 'Tilda Jane the dog and the lantern, and put her hands on one of the diminutive windows.
It opened easily, and she ejaculated with satisfaction, "Just what I thought. Come, crawl in here; the station agent's been here all the evenin', an' the fire ain't quite out. You'll be as snug as a bug in a rug. He'll be back at daylight agin, an' soon after your train'll come along for Ciscasset. Don't you breathe a word to him 'bout me. Say Mis' Minley brought you here, if he asks anythin'. Here's enough money to buy your ticket. I ain't got much. Sister keeps me short, an' she's took away with her what Hank Dillson give her for you. Mind an' keep that card with his father's name pinned inside your dress. Here's a lunch," and she produced a parcel from her pocket. "Don't fret, sister can't git home much before breakfast, an' by that time you'll be in Ciscasset, an' I guess they'll not follow you there. She don't know the name o' the place, anyway. She didn't take no 'count when Hank mentioned it, an' when she asked me, you'd better believe I forgot it, too."
'Tilda Jane scrambled through the window, and, upon arriving inside, turned around and gravely shook hands with her guide. "I guess I sha'n't forgit this."