CHAPTER XII.
HOP-CLOVER’S HOME.
They had just eaten dinner, and John had not gone out as yet to harness the horse.
“Lucinda,” said Mrs. Littlefield as they all went into the parlor, “hast thou had a good visit here? Come and put thy arms round my neck, and tell me.”
“Oh, I’ve had a beautiful time!” said little Hop-clover with a sigh of joy; and then she sighed again, to think she was going away to her miserable home, and never, never, should be so happy again.
Mrs. Littlefield looked at her husband; and he came across the room, smiling, and put his arms around her and Hop-clover as they stood together.
“My wife and I haven’t any little girl,” said he. “How would thee like to come and live with us, Lucinda?”
Now think of that! Hop-clover could not speak for surprise and joy. Besides, she couldn’t believe they meant what they said: it was too good to be true.
“If thee would really like it, Lucinda, thee don’t know how glad we should be.”
“Oh, I’d rather live here than go to heaven!” cried little Hop-clover as soon as she could get her breath.