CHAPTER XXVIII.
A TRAVELING ACQUAINTANCE.
“Well, my name is Hannah Amandy Manning, and I’m first cousin to Minister Jones’s wife, an’ I teach a class in Sunday-school, an’ I’ve had the deestrict school for three summers. I aint a married woman with children of my own, but I’ve got a general interest in all young folks, an’ I believe I’m kinder motherly, if I be an old maid. I’ve told you now who I am. If you like to make a clean breast of it—for I know you’ve got somethin’ out o’ the common to tell—I’ll give you advice accordin’ to my judgment, or I’ll help you out o’ your scrape, whatever it is, providin’ you’ve got the right kind o’ principles about you. I aint goin’ in for any schemes for leavin’ a country home to seek your fortin’ in a big city, that’s come out o’ readin’ improper literatoor.”
It was not like Marion to confide in a stranger, but she felt the need of help, and her instincts had guided her correctly in asking it of Miss Manning. The keen bright eyes were the windows of a faithful heart which warmed generously to the brave girl as she heard all of the story Marion thought it best to tell her.
“Well, I never!” “Sho!” and “I never did!” at intervals, were her comments as the story proceeded. When it was done she grasped her long chin in her right hand, and only saying, “Lemme think a minute,” gazed for some time at the flying landscape.
Marion, too, was thinking, wondering what they were doing at school, what they would think, and wondering if Mrs. Abbott would blame her for making use of the money intrusted to her. Her reverie ended in such a long sigh that Miss Manning turned around with a jerk.
“What now?” she demanded.
“Nothing, only I’m so troubled about spending Mrs. Abbott’s money.”
“Well, you needn’t be, if your Mrs. Abbott is the woman you make out she is. She would not spare money in such a cause. You aint told me how much you’ve got, and I’m glad of it; it shows you’ve got some worldly wisdom, and, whatever happens, don’t you tell any body else you’ve got a cent. This world’s full of villains, and there aint one in a thousand that’s to be trusted, and them that looks like saints is more’n likely to be wuss sinners than them that seems to be ragamuffins.”
“I trust you,” said Marion.
“Well, you don’t know as you’d oughter. How can you tell this minute but I’m one of the very folks that’s plotting to get hold of that child?”