se girl, said
nothing about the quantities of soft cotton-wool which Dame Charter had
been obliged to stuff into the toes before they would stay upon the
small feet they covered.

"But my father," cried Kate, "what of him? Where is he?"

Now Dame Charter was with them, her eyes hard fixed upon her son.

Dickory, mindful of those eyes, told her what he had to tell, saying as
little as possible about Major Bonnet--because, of course, all that he
knew about him was mere hearsay--but dilating with much vigour upon the
shameful conduct of Madam Bonnet; for the young lady ought surely to
know what sort of a woman her father's wife really was, and what she
might expect if she should return to her house. He could have said even
more about the interview with the angry woman, but his mother's eyes
were upon him.

Kate heard everything without a word, and then she burst into tears.

"My father," she sobbed, "carried away, or gone away, and one is as bad
as the other!"

"Dickory," said Dame Charter, "go cut some wood; there is none ready
for the kitchen."

Dickory went away, not sorry, for he did not know how to deport himself
with a young lady whose heart was so sorely tried. He might have
discovered a way, if he had been allowed to do so; but that would not
have been possible with his mother present. But, in spite of her sorrow,
his heart sang to him that she was wearing his shoes and stockings! Then
he cheerfully brought down his axe upon the wood for the dinner's
cooking.

Dame Charter led the weeping girl to the bench, and they talked long
together. There was no optimist in all the British colonies, nor for
that matter in those belonging to France or Spain, or even to the Dutch,
who was a more conscientious follower of her creed than Dame Charter.
She sat by Kate and she talked to her until the girl stopped sobbing and
began to see for herself that her father knew his own business, and that
he had most certainly sent her a message to go on shore, which had not
been delivered.

As to poor Ben Greenway, the good woman was greatly relieved that her
son had not mentioned him, and she took care not to do it herself. She
did not wish to strain her optimism. Kate, having so much else upon her
mind, never thought of this good man.

When Dickory came back, he first looked to see if Kate still wore his
shoes and stockings, and then he began to ask what there was that he
might now do. He would go again to the town if he migh