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Updated: June 17, 2025
Just as Johnson went down, there arose a great bellowing cry of rage and anguish; then Red McWha's big form shot past, leaping far out upon the logs. Over the sickening upheaval he bounded this way and that, with miraculous sure-footedness. He reached the pitching log whereon Rosy-Lilly still clung. He clutched her by the frock. He tucked her under one arm like a rag-baby.
The whole room burst into a roar of laughter at the sight of his wrath. Snatching his cap from its peg, he strode furiously out to the stable, slamming the door behind him. In their delight over McWha's discomfiture the woodsmen quite forgot the feelings of Rosy-Lilly. For a second or two she stood motionless, her lips and eyes wide open with amazement.
"If only he'd do something, so's we c'ld lick some decency inter 'im!" There was absolutely nothing to be done about it, however; for Red McWha was utterly within his rights. Rosy-Lilly, as we have seen, was not yet five years old; but certain of the characteristics of her sex were already well developed within her.
Jimmy Brackett, heedless of her wailing protests, snatched up Rosy-Lilly, and carried her back to the camp. Melindy and the Lynxes The deep, slow-gathering snows of mid-February had buried away every stump in the pasture lot and muffled from sight all the zigzag fences of the little lonely clearing. The Settlement road was simply smoothed out of existence.
But a baby's sorrow, happily, is shorter than its remembrance; and Rosy-Lilly soon learned to repeat her phrase: "Poor Daddy had to go 'way-'way-off," without the quivering lip and wistful look which made the big woodsmen's hearts tighten so painfully beneath their homespun shirts. Conroy's Camp was a spacious, oblong cabin of "chinked" logs, with a big stove in the middle.
Moreover, it was an indirect rebuke to the "saft" way the others acted about her. If Rosy-Lilly felt rebuffed for the moment by McWha's rudeness, she seemed always to forget it the next time she saw him. Night after night she would sidle up to his knee, and sue for his notice; and night after night she would retire discomfited. But on one occasion the discomfiture was McWha's.
Now tell me, what's yer name?" "Daddy called me Rosy-Lilly!" answered the child, playing with a button on Johnson's vest. "Is he gettin' warmer now? He was so cold, and he wouldn't speak to Rosy-Lilly." "Rosy-Lilly it be!" agreed Johnson. "Now we jest won't bother daddy, him bein' so sick! You an' me'll git supper."
Rosy-Lilly went with him willingly enough, but not till after a moment of hesitation, in which her eyes wandered involuntarily to the broad, red face of McWha behind its cloud of smoke. As a nursemaid, Jimmy Brackett flattered himself that he was a success till the moment came when Rosy-Lilly was to be tucked into her bunk. Then she stood and eyed him with solemn question.
"What's wrong, me honey-bug?" asked Brackett, anxiously. "You hain't heard me my prayers!" replied Rosy-Lilly, with a touch of severity in her voice. "Eh? What's that?" stammered Brackett, startled quite out of his wonted composure. "Don't you know little girls has to say their prayers afore they goes to bed?" she demanded.
And Rosy-Lilly began to feel a little aggrieved at the inadequate attention which she was now receiving from all but Jimmy Brackett and the ever-faithful Johnson. She began to forgive McWha, and once more to try her baby wiles upon him. But McWha was as coldly unconscious as a stone. One day, however, Fate concluded to range herself on Rosy-Lilly's side.
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