“Didn’t she marry a man by the name of Outhouse?” asked Mrs. Crane.
Hop-clover pressed her cheek against the soft kerchief, and felt so happy that she couldn’t help crying. It was beautiful to see people who had known and loved her own dear mother.
“This child looks very pale,” said Mr. Littlefield; “but I thought it might do her good to play with the calves and chickens awhile. What does thee think, Liddy?”
The twins looked on, and listened to all this with surprise. Hop-clover was almost a little beggar-child; yet the people in this house seemed to care more about her than they did about Judge Pitcher’s children. Posy was glad of it; but Pollio didn’t quite like it, he was used to a great deal of attention. Supper was now ready, however,—the very nicest supper; and, Mr. Swan and Mr. Crane coming in, no more was said about “that good Lucinda.”
Next morning the children made a telegraph in the barn with the clothes-line, and sent printed messages back and forth, making a clicking noise with two sticks while they were going. Hop-clover did not print, like the others, but wrote remarkably well for a child of her age. This was her message: “Click, Click. Dorrythe is coming out here.”
And, before the message had gone “across the wires,” Dorothy really did appear, with a bowl of corn-meal dough; and the children clustered around to see her feed the late chickens. It was a pretty sight, especially to Hop-clover.
“You’re having a good time, I guess,” said Dorothy, smiling down upon the lame girl kindly.
“Oh, I never was so happy! I never saw such cunning chickens! But don’t you wish they’d been born sooner? I’m afraid they won’t grow up before the snow comes.”