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_.]
"Come on, Henry; we're going now," said Miss Morgan, and drew the lad
up with her hand.
"Whur to?" asked Bud, who knew the answer instinctively.
"Home," replied the little woman, who knew that the boy knew, and who
was sure that he had consented. "Our home--yours and mine."
The boy arose, still holding her hand, and looked toward the grave
with the flowers strewn over it. He gripped her hand tightly--so
tightly that it pained her--and sobbed, as he faced away from her: "O
pop!"
Then they walked on in silence, till they came up with Piggy, who had
gone a few steps ahead. It was Bud who spoke first. He said: "You
don't live far from Piggy's, do you, Miss Morgan?"
And Piggy Pennington pointed his finger at Bud's dripping eyes and
grinned, while Miss Morgan smiled happily at the clouds.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52