"Oh, dear, dear," exclaimed Marjorie, "have dreadful things been always happening? Did she die with a broken heart?"
"No, indeed, she was married afterward and had a good husband. She got through, as people do usually, and then something good happened."
"I'll remember that," said Marjorie, her hazel eyes full of light; "but it was dreadful."
"And there were robbers in those days."
"Were there giants, too?"
"I never saw a giant, but I saw robbers once. The women folks were alone, not even a boy with us, and six robbers came for something to eat and they ransacked the house from garret to cellar; they didn't hurt us at all, but we were scared, no mistake. And after they were gone we found out that the baby was gone, Susannah's little black baby, it had died the day before and mother laid it on a table in the parlor and covered it with a sheet and they had caught it up and ran away with it."
"Oh, dear," ejaculated Marjorie.
"Father got men out and they hunted, but they never found the robbers or the baby. If Susannah didn't cry nobody ever did! She had six other children but this baby was so cunning! We used to feed it and play with it and had cried our eyes sore the day it died. But we never found it."
"It wasn't so bad as if it had been alive," comforted Marjorie, "they couldn't hurt it. And it was in Heaven before they ran away with the body. But I don't wonder the poor mother was half frantic."
"Poor Susannah, she used to talk about it as long as she lived."