Charlotte. Oh, Charlotte, don't feel bad. I wouldn't have told mother
if I'd thought. I didn't mean to do any harm. I was all upset myself
by it. Don't cry, Charlotte."

"I ain't going to cry," said Charlotte, with spirit. "I've stopped
cryin'." She wiped her eyes forcibly with her apron, and gave her
head a proud toss. "I know you didn't mean to do any harm, Rose, and
I suppose it would have got out anyway. 'Most everything does get out
but good deeds."

"I truly didn't mean to do any harm, Charlotte," Rose repeated.

"I know you didn't. We won't say any more about it."

"I was just running over across lots last night," Rose said. "I
supposed you'd be in the front room with Barney, but I thought I'd
see Aunt Sarah. I'd got terrible lonesome; mother had gone to sleep
in her chair, and father had gone to bed. When I got out by the
stone-wall next the wood I heard you; then I ran right back. Don't
you--suppose he'll ever come again, Charlotte?"

"No," said Charlotte.

"Oh, Charlotte!" There was a curious quality in the girl's voice, as
if some great hidden emotion in her heart tried to leap to the
surface and make a sound, although it was totally at variance with
the import of her cry. Charlotte started, without knowing why. It was
as if Rose's words and her tone had different meanings, and
conflicted like the wrong lines with a tune.