“Good-bye, Hester,” Nancy said, climbing up on the step of the wagon. The two kissed each other, and Hester clung for a second to her cousin’s neck.
“Oh, Nan,” she whispered, “we have always played together and done our work together—don’t feel hard to me.”
Nancy looked down at her sadly.
“I ain’t a mite hard,” she said gently. “I ain’t judgin’, Hetty, only there’s a gulf. Goodbye.”
She turned to Fred and held out her hand. “I wish you well,” she said, in her clear, calm tones, and then she opened the yard gate and stood inside, leaving Uncle Peter a chance for his farewell.
He wrung Fred’s hand, but no words came from his trembling lips.
“I’ll be very good to her,” Fred said hurriedly. “Good-bye, sir. I hope you won’t mind if I say I consider it an honor to be your nephew.”
At the time Uncle Peter grasped only the first words. “Yes,” he said, “be good to her, Fred—she’s a good girl, a good girl.”
He stepped on the hub of the wheel, and Hester threw her arms around him, kissing vehemently his gray head and wrinkled cheeks.
“Don’t forget me,” she sobbed. “Oh, how can I leave you and Nan and the old place? Goodbye, and I love you, I do so love you, Uncle Pete!”