“I’ll say good-night now,” she said, for she was glad to get some rest. Her face and neck were smarting from the unusual exposure to the sun and wind, and she was trying to find something with which to alleviate the burning when Mrs. West tapped gently at her door.
“Are you asleep, dear?”
Bess quickly opened the door for her to enter. “Mr. Davis is sleeping again, so I came to see what help I might be to our ‘little stranger,’” she said gently, and noticing that the girl was suffering with the sunburned tender face, hastened to bring something to soothe her. “Let me put this on, dearie. Why, you are dreadfully burned!”
“I should have known better than to ride so far with only that tam-o’-shanter on my head,” said Bess.
“You should have a light, soft sombrero, and then you will be a regular ‘cowboy,’ and we’ll try to find a gun and spurs, too,” laughed Mrs. West, as she gently bathed the flaming cheeks and brow.
When she had been tucked snugly in her bed, Mrs. West sat by her side, telling in her modulated voice of her own strange experiences in the West; of her days in school and college; of her teaching and her music; of her home life and her children; opening little secret chambers in her soul to the girl, who was already filling her heart. Bess listened in wonderment at all that was told so modestly, and then she readily understood the source and cause of the taste and refinement which she had already observed.
On they chatted, like two school chums who had not seen each other for years, until Mrs. West noticed the tired eyelids trying so hard to stay open, and kissed Bess gently on the brow. The girl aroused herself and said: “Please, little mother, wait until I pray. Put your arms around me tight and let me feel what it means to have a mother.”
Together they mingled their supplications to the Great Common Father, and in the sight of God they were equal—though one pair of eyelids closed on cheeks fair as a lily and tears wet the face of one so dark.