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Still she uttered no word of complaint, for fear of lessening the little amount in the pocketbook that her mother had said stood between them and the poorhouse. She sat with her feet tucked under her when any one called. "I wouldn't mind bein' a little beggah so much myself," she thought, "but I jus' can't have my bu'ful sweet mothah lookin' like that awful red-eyed woman."
"Oh, the same old things: school and music lessons, and good times in the evenin' with mothah and papa Jack and grandfathah." As they jogged along, side by side, the Little Colonel chatting gaily of all that had happened since their last meeting, Rob kept casting curious glances at her. "What have you been doing to yourself, Lloyd Sherman?" he demanded, finally. "You look so so different!"
Lloyd hurried over to the bed, eager to display a gorgeous brocade gown of rose and silver laid out there, which Mrs. Sherman had brought down from the attic in her absence, and from which Mom Beck had pressed all the wrinkles. "It's as good as new," said Lloyd. "I'm glad that mothah wouldn't let us cut it up last yeah, when we wanted to make it fit Katie.
Ah have a twenty-doll ah bill 'roun som'ers, if hi could evah fin' hit. "Yes, ah had hit good. My mothah, she stayed on de plantation, too. She did de churnin' and she run de loom. She wuz a good weaver. Ah used ter help her run de loom.
There was such a puzzled expression in his sharp gray eyes that the Little Colonel laughed. Then her hand flew up to her head. "Don't you see? I've had my hair cut. I had to beg and beg befo' mothah and papa Jack would let me have it done; but it was so long, away below my waist, and such a bothah. It had to be brushed and plaited a dozen times a day." "I don't like it that way.
She looked et me onconsarned lak, an' says she really didn't know; ole Dilsey allus looked aftah sich things. Think on it! a wife an' mothah an' housekeepah not knowin' ef the year's soap grease wuz wucked up an' it late on in spring, too.
"He said I could help mothah and Papa Jack, both of 'em, by stayin' heah, an' I'll do it." Fritz, who had pushed himself through the partly opened gate to rustle around among the dead leaves outside, came bounding back with something in his mouth. "Heah, suh!" she called. "Give it to me!" He dropped a small gray kid glove in her outstretched hand. "Oh, it's mothah's!" she cried.
Maria had warned her not to waken her grandfather, so she admired it in whispers. "Jus' think, Fritz," she exclaimed, "this doll has seen my Gran'mothah Amanthis, an' it's named for her. My mothah wasn't any bigger'n me when she played with it. I think it is the loveliest doll I evah saw in my whole life." Fritz gave a jealous bark. "Sh!" commanded his little mistress.
She leaned against the gate, peering out through the bars. The road stretched white through the gathering darkness in the direction of the little cottage. "Oh, I want to go home so bad!" she sobbed. "I want to see my mothah." She laid her hand irresolutely on the latch, pushed the gate ajar, and then hesitated. "No, I promised the doctah I'd stay," she thought.
"She'd go right straight an' put her arms around my mothah an' kiss away all the sorry feelin's." It was a long time he stood there. The battle between his love and pride was a hard one. At last he raised his head and saw that the short winter day was almost over. Without waiting to order his horse he started off in the falling snow toward the cottage.
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