"Whut," was the response.

"Miss Morgan wants to talk with you," replied Piggy.

"What's she want?" inquired the Perkins boy, with his head still
between his knees.

Miss Morgan had been coming nearer and nearer to him as the dialogue
had progressed. She was standing in front of Bud when he added, "I
ain't done nothin'."

Miss Morgan bent down and touched his head with her hands. Piggy was
shaking his head warningly at her with much earnestness. He feared
that such a feminine proceeding would anger his comrade. When Miss
Morgan sat upon the ground beside Bud and took one of his hands,
stroking it without the boy's resisting, Piggy Pennington was dumb
with wonder. He could not hear the gentle breaking of the agonizing
lump in the child's throat. Even little Miss Morgan could not see the
tears that had burst over the brims of the orphan's eyes. His face was
averted. She stroked his hand, and snuggled closer to him. Then she
heard a faint whimper, and her heart could stand the strain no longer;
she leaned upon the child's shoulder, and mourned with him. The
Pennington boy did not comprehend it all; but as he looked politely
away from his friends, he felt the moisture in his eyes. He wiped it
away quickly, glancing to see if his weakness had been detected.
The woman recovered in a few moments, and arose with the boy's hand
gripping hers warmly. He had felt her tears through his thin clothing,
and was conquered.

[Illustration: _She stroked his hand and snuggled closer to him_.]