all go plummin' together. I should admire to! And we'd have parties,
and ask 'em all over. What say?"

The child sat straight and serious, one warm hand clinging to Lucindy's
slender palm. But her eyes still sought the face of her older friend.
Molly McNeil rose to a sitting posture. She took the straw from her
mouth, and spoke with the happy frankness of those who have no fear
because they demand nothing save earth and sky room.

"I know who you are," she said to Lucindy. "You're left well off, and I
guess you could bring up a child, give you your way. We're as poor as
poverty! You take her, if she'll go. Ellen, she's a nice lady; you
better say 'yes.'"

Lucindy was trembling all over.

"You come, dear," she urged, piteously. "You come and live with me."

Ellen thought a moment more. Then she nodded.

"I'll come," said she.

Lucindy could not wait.

"I'll send a wagon over after her to-night." She had put Ellen down, and
was rising tremblingly. "I won't stop to talk no more now, but you come
and see me, won't you? Now, if you'll help me mount up--there! My! it's
higher 'n 'twas before! Well, I'll see you again." She turned Old
Buckskin's head away from the fence; then she pulled him fiercely round
again. "Here!" she called, "what if she should jump up behind me and