real sharplike, why Pinkie shouldn't go this time, Miss Bray spoke out
like she was really grieved.

"I declare, Mrs. Roane," she said--and she twirled her keys round and
round her fingers, and twitched the nostril parts of her nose just like
a horse--"I declare, Mrs. Roane, I hate to tell you, I really do. But
Pinkie Moore wouldn't do for adoption. She has a terrible temper, and
she's so slow nobody would keep her. And then, too"--her voice was the
Pharisee kind that the Lord must hate worse than all others--"and then,
too, I am sorry to say Pinkie is not truthful, and has been caught
taking things from the girls. I hope none of you will mention this, as I
trust by watching over her to correct these faults. She begs me so not
to send her out for adoption, and is so devoted to me that--" And just
then she saw me, which she hadn't done before, I being behind Mrs.
Armstead, and she stopped like she had been hit.

For a minute I didn't breathe. I didn't. All I did was to stare--stare
with mouth open and eyes out; and then it was the glasses went down and
I flew into the yard, and there by the pump was Pinkie.

"Oh, Pinkie!" I said. "Oh, Pinkie!" And I caught her round the waist and
raced up and down the yard like a wild man from Borneo. "Oh, Pinkie,
what do you think?" Poor Pinkie, thinking a mad dog had bit me, tried to
make me stop, but stop I wouldn't until there was no more breath. And
then we sat down on the woodpile, and I hugged her so hard I almost
broke her bones.

First I was so mad I couldn't cry, and then crying so I couldn't speak.
But after a while words came, and I said: