“No, they won’t, unless we take good care of them. But this is a famous place for taking care of every thing,—chickens and folks too,” added Dorothy, smiling again.
“Why don’t you say thee and thou?” asked Pollio, who had been watching the girl’s speech.
“Because I’m not a Quaker.”
“Don’t you like the Quakers?”
“Oh, yes! I love them dearly. I’ve lived with Mrs. Littlefield ever since I was twelve years old. She took me when I didn’t know much, and hadn’t any home or any parents, and she has been a mother to me ever since. The Littlefields like folks all the better for being poor, or sick, or in trouble, I believe,” said Dorothy, with another smile at Hop-clover.
“Why, that’s just like”—began Posy.
“Like Jesus Christ,” said Pollio.
“To be sure it is: they try to be like Him.”
“Dorothy,” said Hop-clover, drawing near the girl, and speaking low, “did you know my mother?”