Kate did go back as fast as she could, springing over the wall right into the midst of Grandma Dobson’s currant bushes.
“Run! run, mamma!” she shouted, out of breath, and trembling as only a girl can tremble, at the thought of a snake.
“Don’t be frightened! it’s only a young black snake. There’s lots of ’em in the grass down the lane,” said Frank, after he had killed the reptile and approached his mother, who, to tell the exact truth, was standing quite still, and was afraid to take another step into the long grass about her feet.
“Give me your hand, Frank?” she said, trying to smile, but looking very white.
“Why, mamma, what is the matter? You haven’t been bitten, have you?” and with the words, Frank reached her side and took hold of her outstretched hand.
“No, Frank.” She tried to smile, but the trial was such a miserable failure, that she nearly cried instead of smiling.
“Why, mother,” in a voice of mingled pity and regret, “I thought you had more courage!”
“I have about some things—bearing a headache, for instance,” she replied, trying two or three times before she could get over the low wall into the garden. By the time she reached the house, she was very glad to sit down on the broad stone steps at the back door.
“Fetch me some water,” she said, but instead of going for the water, Kate ran for Mrs. Dobson, who presently appeared on the scene with a glass of foaming root beer. “Don’t be afraid of it, Mrs. Hallock. I made it with my own hands, and I know just what is in it. I don’t know what to do about the snakes, I’m sure. Everybody else is afraid of them, but they never hurt me.”
“You don’t go near them, do you?” gasped Kate, with her soft brown eyes expressive of extreme horror at the thought.