Mary’s face at once assumed an expression of earnest gravity, and she answered, “Yes,” in a low, sad tone.
March was going to have inquired further on this point, but fear lest he should hurt the feelings of the poor child induced him to change the subject.
“And how came ye,” said he, “first to meet with Dick?”
Mary pressed her lips.
“Oh! very well; don’t tell if it ain’t right, by no manner o’ means. Do ye think that Dick intends to keep ye here always?”
“Me not know.”
“Humph! An’ you say he’s good to ye?”
“Oh yes,” cried Mary with a sudden blaze of animation on her usually placid countenance, “him’s good, very good—gooder to me than nobody else.”
“Well, I could have guessed that, seein’ that nobody else has had anything to do with ye but him for ten years past.”
“But him’s not only good to me—good to everybody,” continued the girl with increasing animation. “You not know how good—can’t know.”