s she ought not to show it, and yet there was nothing in
the note but what she had already told the girl, and she felt sure she
would not breathe a word to a living soul after her promise. She handed
Miranda the letter, and they stopped a moment while she slowly spelled it
out. Miranda was no scholar. Marcia watched her face eagerly, as if to
gather a ray of hope from it, but she was puzzled by Miranda's look. A
kind of satisfaction had overspread her homely countenance.

"Should you think from that that David was hurt--or ill--or--or--killed--or
anything?" She asked the question as if Miranda were a wizard, and hung
anxiously upon her answer.

"Naw, I don't reckon so!" said Miranda. "Don't you worry. David's all
right somehow. I'll take care o' you. You go 'long up and see what's the
business, an' I'll wait here out o' sight o' the tavern. Likely's not he
might take a notion not to tell you ef he see me come along with you. You
jest go ahead, and I'll be on hand when you get through. If you need me
fer anything you jest holler out 'Randy!' good and loud an' I'll hear you.
Guess I'll set on this log. The tavern's jest round that bend in the road.
Naw, you needn't thank me. This is a real pretty mornin' to set an' rest.
Good-bye."

Marcia hurried on, glancing back happily at her protector in a calico
sunbonnet seated stolidly on a log with her tin pail beside her.

Poor stupid Miranda! Of course she could not understand what a comfort it
was to have confided her trouble. Marcia went up to the tavern with almost
a smile on her face, though her heart began to beat wildly as a slatternly
girl led her into a big room at the right of the hall.

As Marcia disappeared behind the bend in the road, Miranda stealthily
stole along the edge of the woods, till she stood hidden behind a clump of
alders where she could peer out and watch Marcia until she reached the
tavern and passed safely by the row of lounging, smoking men, and on into
the doorway. Then Miranda waited just an instant to look in all
directions, and sped across the road, mounting the fence and on through
two meadows, and the barnyard to the kitchen door of the tavern.

"Mornin'! Mis' Green," she said to the slovenly looking woman who sat by
the table peeling potatoes. "Mind givin' me a drink o' water? I'm terrible
thirsty, and seemed like I couldn't find the spring. Didn't thare used to
be a spring 'tween here'n town?"

"Goodness sakes! Randy! Where'd you come f