"O, are you?" said Flyaway, looking up in surprise at the large and oddly-dressed stranger. "Are you Daniel? My mamma's just been reading about you. You was in the lions' den—wasn't you, Daniel?"
Mr. McQuilken smiled at bareheaded, flossy-haired little Katie, and replied, with a wink at Abner,—
"Fath, little lady, and I suppose I'm that same Dannul; but 'twas so long ago I've clane forgot aboot it entirely."
"O, did you? Well, you was in the lions' den, Daniel, but they didn't bite you, you know, 'cause you prayed so long and so loud, with your winners up; and then God wouldn't let 'em bite."
Old Daniel laid both his huge hands on Katie's head.
"Swate little chirrub," said he, "don't she look saintish?"
Katie moved away; she did not like to have her hair pulled, and Daniel was unconsciously drawing it through the big cracks in his fingers, as if he was waxing silk.
"I guess I'll go home now," said she, with a timid glance at the man whom the lions did not bite; "they'll be spectin' me."
Abner and Daniel both watched the tiny figure across the fields till Ruth came out to meet it, and it fluttered into the east door of the house.
"There, she's safe," said Abner; "she needs as much looking after as a young turkey."