“Well, well, I hope ye’ll git it,” he said. “I don’t want to be hard on ye,” he repeated; “if ye can’t, ye can’t; and though it’s dreadful inconvenient, I’ll wait a little, hoping the rascal will be caught with all he stole from you.”
Miriam took her purse from her pocket and a fifty-dollar note from it. “You see I expected you, Mr. Himes,” she said, with a sad sort of smile, and pointing to a little side table, where were pen, ink, and paper. “Will you write me a receipt for this? And then, if you are not in too great haste, you must let me set you out a lunch, for you must be hungry after your long ride.”
“Thank’e; I am that; and your cookin’ has a powerful good smell,” he returned, pocketing the note, seating himself at the table, and taking up the pen; “I don’t know but it’ll pay to take time to snatch a mouthful or so.”
Regarding this as an acceptance of her invitation, Miriam moved briskly about, spread a snowy cloth on one end of the large table at which she had been at work, and by the time the farmer had gone through with the business of writing the receipt—a slow and toilsome one to him—had quite a tempting little repast of cold meat, hot rolls and butter, pie, and gingerbread ready for him.
He did it hasty but ample justice—eating being more in his line than writing—thanked her with hearty praise of her cooking, and went away, his parting words a strongly expressed hope that the apprehension of the thief would soon put her in a position to keep her promises of payment to him.
As Miriam closed the door upon him and turned to her work again, her heart was heavy with a sad foreboding of the consequences to her dear ones and herself should that hope fail of realization.
“Bertie,” she said, noticing the child standing at the window intently watching Mr. Himes as he made his way down the garden-path toward his horses and wagon, “what made you stare so at the man while he was eating? I was quite ashamed of your rudeness.”
“Why, sister,” returned the child, slowly, “he never thanked the Lord at all for his victuals, and I was watching to see him choke—you know grandmother said the other day she should expect to choke if she did that way. But he didn’t, though, not a bit.”
“Grandma would tell you that our Father in heaven is very kind and patient with us all, and that that is another reason why we should not abuse His goodness,” Miriam answered, in a cheerful tone, the thought of that goodness helping her to throw off for a time her heavy burden of care.
Not much occurring in her vicinity ever escaped the sharp eyes and ears of Madam Wiley. She had seen Mr. Himes piloted by Bertie to the kitchen door, and full of curiosity in regard to his errand there, had strained her ears to hear the talk between him and Miriam; but the girl’s tones were low, the farmer’s utterance was indistinct, and Miriam had purposely seated him on the side of the room farthest from the communicating door between it and the sitting-room; besides, there was the distracting necessity of listening to and answering the remarks of Mrs. Heath.