"What be you doin', Cynthy?" she demanded.
Such was Miss Skinner's little way of showing deference. Though deference is not usually vehement, Miss Skinner's was very real, nevertheless.
"Why, Milly, what's the matter?" exclaimed Cynthia, in astonishment.
"You hain't a-goin' to do any cookin', that's all," said Milly, very red in the face.
"But I've always helped," said Cynthia. "Why not?"
Why not? A tribute was one thing, but to have to put the reasons for that tribute, into words was quite another.
"Why not?" cried Milly, "because you hain't a-goin' to, that's all."
Strange deference! But Cynthia turned and looked at the girl with a little, sad smile of comprehension and affection. She took her by the shoulders and kissed her.
Whereupon a most amazing thing happened—Millicent burst into tears—wild, ungovernable tears they were.
"Because you hain't a-goin' to," she repeated, her words interspersed with violent sobs. "You go 'way, Cynthy," she cried, "git out!"