not look at him. Madelon
said not a word until her tasks were done; then she came and stood in
front of Richard, and looked at him, frowning a little, for her pride
was stung at his treatment of her, but holding out her hand. "Can't
you bid me good-night, Richard?" said she, and tried to smile at him
with that old loving comradeship which he had disowned.

The boy maintained his sullen silence for a moment, and Madelon
waited. Then suddenly he cried, "Good-night," with sharp intonations,
like the response of a surly dog, and sprang up and thrust something
hard into her hand, with such roughness that it hurt her, and she
started.

"'Tis a wedding-present for you," Richard said, savagely, with
averted face. "I thought the one I gave you before would not serve
for two weddings. Though there be but one bride, there should be
different gifts."

Madelon gave one look at Richard; then she opened her hand, and there
on her reddened palm lay a little gold pencil, which the boy must
have spent all his little savings to buy. Madelon held it out to him.
"Take it back," said she; "I want no presents with words like that to
sweeten them."

Richard's clenched hand hung by his side. He shook his head sullenly.

"Take it!" said Madelon; but he made no motion to do so.

"Then I shall let it fall on the floor," said Madelon.

"Let it," returned Richard, and forthwith the little gold pencil
rolled on the floor under the settle, and Madelon turned away with a
white face. But before she had reached the door Richard was at her
side and his hand on her arm. "Oh, Madelon!" he said, striving to
keep the sobs back. Then Madelon turned and laid a hand on each of
his shoulders, and held him away, looking at him.

"Why did you speak to me like that?" said she; and then, without
waiting for an answer, drew the boy's head down to her bosom, and
held it there a moment, stroking his hair. "If ever you are sick
after I am gone," said she, "I will come and take care of you; and if
you don't get good things to eat I will see to that, too;" and then
she kissed Richard's dark head, and put him away gently, bidding him
with a tender laugh "not to be a baby," and went over to the settle
and picked up the little gold pencil, and praised it and said she
would treasure it all her life.

And then she bade Richard follow her into the best room, and opened
the carved oak chest and displayed six beautiful shirts made of
linen, which she had herself spun