"We'll talk about that," said Mrs. Plumfield.
"She was wonderful pleased with the pie," said Barby, "and so was Hetty; she ha'n't seen anything so good, she says, since she quit Queechy."
"Well, Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, as she turned and grasped her hand, "did you remember your Thanksgiving over it?"
"Yes, Mis' Plumfield," and the fine grey eyes fell to the floor,--"but I minded it only because it had come from you. I seemed to hear you saying just that out of every bone I picked."
"You minded my message," said the other gently.
"Well I don't mind the things I had ought to most," said Barby in a subdued voice,--"never!--'cept mother--I ain't very apt to forget her."
Mrs. Plumfield saw a tell-tale glittering beneath the drooping eye-lid. She added no more but a sympathetic strong squeeze of the hand she held, and turned to follow Fleda who had gone on ahead.
"Mis' Plumfield!" said Barby, before they had reached the stile that led into the road, where Fleda was standing,--"Will I be sure of having the money regular down yonder? You know I hadn't ought to go otherways, on account of mother."
"Yes, it will be sure," said Mrs. Plumfield,--"and regular;" adding quietly, "I'll make it so."
There was a bond for the whole amount in aunt Miriam's eyes; and quite satisfied, Barby went back to the house.