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Updated: May 1, 2025
Patience nodded understandingly. "Real people are never like people in books," she commented. "Usually the real folks do far more startling things than the book people ever thought of doing." "I know it," agreed Grace, with a rueful smile. "Suppose I say what you just said happens to apply to this case, and leave the rest to your imagination." "Very neatly put," was Patience's grim answer.
"I believe she is writing a play, but I don't know positively and I wouldn't dream of asking her," had been Patience's comment. As the long intervening days that lay between the students of Overton and "going home for Christmas" dragged by, Grace found herself more impatient to see her father and mother than ever before. "It is on account of that old newspaper trouble," she assured herself.
There was something in Steadfast's mind that would have preferred declining all payment, but he was a little afraid of Patience's dismay at having another mouth to provide for all the winter, and he thought too that Jeph's anger at the adoption of the Canaanitish child might be averted if it were a matter of business and payment, so he accepted the sum, thanked Sir Harry and the rest, and renewed his promise to do the best in his power for the little maiden.
Patience's earnestness was convincing. "Neither do I," agreed Mabel heartily. "You won't object if the editor of our paper knows, though, will you? He is an old friend of Father's. I am sure he will never forgive me if I don't introduce you to him. I am going to take you girls to the office with me on Saturday.
"Then don't leave any word for Miss West, and don't put yourself within speaking distance of her for at least a week." "But I can't do that. She wouldn't understand " "All the better for you," cut in Patience's crisp voice. "You are very fond of Miss West, aren't you?" Miss Rawle nodded. "She is so bright and clever and says such smart things, and can write. I adore cleverness.
We saved somebody's life to-day, by golly, and you'd think we'd committed a crime." Lydia sighed. "Nothing to look forward to but worry now. O gee, Kent, I've got two pennies! One's Patience's. But let's go spend the other at Spence's!" "Gum or all day sucker?" asked Kent, who, in spite of the fact that he owned a second-hand bicycle, was not above sharing a penny.
Lydia jumped and turned. The old squaw of two years before stood begging. She was as pitifully thin as ever. As she stared at the ugly old Indian, Lydia's throat tightened. She seemed to feel baby Patience's fingers clinging to hers in fear. "Want some vegetables?" she asked, motioning toward the garden. The squaw nodded eagerly and held up the dirty apron she was wearing.
She that has been like a child or a sister to us, to leave us thus! O my brother!" "Come, come, my good woman, best not make a pother." Poor Patience's homely garb and hard-worked looks shewed little of the yeoman class to which she belonged. "You've done your duty by the maid and here's the best I have to make it up."
"Thank you, Edward; may God bless you and preserve you!" Edward first kissed Patience's hand, that was held in his own; but perceiving the tears starting in her eyes, he kissed them off, without any remonstrance on her part, and then left the room. In a few moments more he was mounted on a fine powerful black horse, and followed by Sampson, on his road to London.
Patience's recital of her woes brought back the subject of Arline's displeasure to Grace's mind, and when, a little later, the two girls went upstairs arm in arm, the important question of whether or not to inform the Overton police of her discovery had slipped, for the time being, from Grace's mind.
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