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She had written two or three cards before she let fall the remark: "And now poor, dear old mother is manoeuvering to have me marry him." The idea was not new to Olivia, so she said, simply, "And are you going to?" "Oh, I don't know." Drusilla sighed wearily, then added: "I sha'n't if I can help it." "Does that mean that you'll take him if you can't do better?"
"Pick 'im up an' show 'im to your ma!" exclaimed Drusilla suddenly. "No, no, no!" cried Mr. Thimblefinger, leaping to his feet. "That would spoil everything. No grown person living in this country has ever seen me. No, no! don't try that. It would spoil your luck. I wouldn't be here now if the Dolls' Grandmother hadn't begged me to come with her last night.
Drusilla stopped at the door to take a last look around the room, at the wondering faces of the children who watched her with great black eyes, but who did not stop their fingers from separating and placing the flowers together again.
Harris began again, speaking slowly, "that we cannot take you. We have not been able to enlarge the house, and there were so many applications ahead of you." The woman looked at her blankly for a moment, then Drusilla saw that she understood. Her mouth drooped and quivered, her hands faltered in their work, but only for a moment.
She looked at the chef thoughtfully; then, evidently deciding, she gave her head a little toss and with a light laugh left the room, soon to return with a big gingham apron covering her pretty dress. The chef looked at her inquiringly. "Cook," Drusilla said, "I'm hungry for some home cookin' and I want to do it myself.
He regretted now his curt refusal to join the Hills at supper, for Drusilla was singing gloriously; but a man without pride is a despicable creature and Old Bunk had tried to insult him. So he went to bed and early in the morning, while the shadow of Apache Leap still lay like a blanket across the plain, he set out to fulfill his contract.
John went on with his reading, but finally, seeing Drusilla looking at him intently, he spoke. "What is it, Drusilla?" Drusilla said softly: "John, do you remember when we used to walk down Willow Lane in the moonlight, and one night some of the neighbors saw your arm around me and they went to mother and said we was carryin' on and it ought to be put a stop to?
Welcome home, Miss Doane! we are so glad to have you. We have all been waiting such a long time. Father is always so slow;" and she flew in her pretty, impulsive way to Drusilla and took both her hands. "I am so glad to have you come, Miss Doane." Drusilla looked at the pretty face before her that seemed to show such real welcome, and her eyes filled with tears.
I've never forgotten that. I've told lots of people about it." "Yes, yes, I remember." "And I told that story to the Eagle Man, and to Graham's father, and he's going to have tents put up in his yard for some poor people who have no homes, for your sake, Drusilla." The frail figure suddenly fell back. "Drusilla! Who calls me that?" The pale lips trembled.
It went to the spot and his drooping shoulders straightened, the spring came back into his step; yet as he cleaned up the dishes and changed to decent clothes the weight of some duty seemed to haunt him. Was it McGraw? No, he had loaded the last sack and sent him on his way. It was Drusilla she had been going to sing for him.
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