“Mr. Littlefield was a jolly good man to forgive me. Catch me meddling with any of his things again!”
Hop-clover and little Posy chatted together in a low voice on the back-seat.
“God did take care of you, didn’t he?” said Posy.
“Oh! I always knew He would,” replied Hop-clover with a joyous smile; “but I didn’t s’pect he’d do any thing so nice as this, you know!”
There wasn’t the least trouble about her father’s giving her up. He said “Yes,” without taking his pipe out of his mouth; and then Mr. Littlefield left Hop-clover at the little brown house to “pack up her things,” while he drove to Judge Pitcher’s with the twins.
“O mamma! she’s going to live with ’em,—live with ’em always!” cried Posy, as they rushed into the house.
And before Mrs. Pitcher could ask who “she” was, and where she was going to live, Pollio was swinging the peeping chicken before her eyes, with a shout,—
“See what I’ve got for a tormento, mamma!”
“I’m afraid Eliza will think it’s a tormento if you keep it under the kitchen-stove,” laughed aunt Ann.