"I agree with thee, Joshua," she answered. "A Mission is no place for a little girl like her. She bears every evidence of delicate and tender rearing, and gives promise of great beauty. She is thirteen years old now, her mother told me, and in a very few years will grow into a beautiful young maiden."
For many miles the couple drove along in silence, the voices from the other wagon coming frequently to their ears. After long and earnest thought Hannah Peniman spoke:
"Joshua," she said, "my heart cannot forget that the hand of the Lord was laid upon us, too, in crossing these prairies. There is always before me the picture of that tiny mound we left behind us in this great trackless desert when our own little girl was taken from us. Perhaps God has intended to comfort us by sending to us this other child, whose sorrow has linked her to us. Somehow I cannot find it in my heart to abandon her to such care as she would find at a Mission."
Joshua Peniman turned to her, love and approval beaming in his eyes.
"Spoken like the true woman thee is, Hannah," he said, clasping her hand. "But I would not that an added burden should be laid upon thee. Thou hast many little ones to attend to, and this stranger child——"
"—Would not make me any more care, dear. She can run wild with Ruth and Sara out there on the plains, and I believe that our boys are kind and chivalrous enough to take care of her."
"But her clothes, Hannah? With eight children of our own to keep covered——"
"One more would not matter. Beside, the child is thirteen years old, and should learn to sew. Soon she will be able to attend to her own clothes. And"—with a little smile that had in it a tinge of pain,—"I imagine few clothes will suffice in the country to which we are going."
"But the cooking——"
"She would be a help to Ruth and Sara in their share of the work. And as for the food she will eat——"