WINNING HER WAY 



15 



we ain't wanted from what you've said, 

 without the man or the dog. Sorry you 

 haven^t more sympathy for a couple of 

 chaps in hard luck, ma'am. Come, Tom, 

 let^s be on the move. May be we can find 

 some o' the work the old lady advises us 

 to be on the lookout for," and with another 

 insolent laugh the man slunk out of the 

 yard, followed by his companion. 



"It's a good thing they'd sense enough 

 to take themselves off, afore John got 

 here," said Miss Betty. "Ef they hadn't 

 gone, I'd b'lieve I'd a got out the ol' shot- 

 gun. It makes me so mad to have them 

 great, lazy, shif"less critters a-trampin' 

 'round the country beggin', when there's 

 work they might git. ef they wa'n't so 

 mis'able lazy. / won't incourage 'em in 

 it. I'd see 'em starve afore I'd give 'em 

 a single mouthful. I wish they had to 

 starve, ef they ain't willin' to 'arn a livin' 

 as other folks have to. 'T would be a good 

 thing ef we c'd git red of 'em in that way." 



Miss Betty made her sentences emphatic 

 by the movements of her broom as she 

 swept the yard. She kept watch of the 

 men until they disappeared over the hill, 

 to make sure that they had gone. 



After dinner Miss Betty . told Mary to 

 take the basket and go after some more 

 apples. 



She was glad to get away by herself, for 

 the loss of Spotty was coming home to her 

 more and more, as the excitement over 

 her tragic fate died away, ^^ow she could 

 realize her loss more fully, for she had 

 time to miss her more. Spotty was "only 

 a kitten," it is true, but when she passed 

 out of Mary's life a great void was left 

 there that there was nothing to fill, and as 

 Mary missed the little creature's cunning 

 ways and bright, friendly face a feeling of 

 great loneliness would sweep over her, and 

 tears would come. 



She took her basket and set out for the 

 orchard. Most of it was on the hill, be- 

 yond the old barn. As Mary passed this 

 place her sorrow for Spotty broke forth 

 afresh, for the sight of it brought back 

 the remembrance of the many pleasant 



hours she had passed under its roof with 

 her unfortunate little friend. When she 

 got to the orchard where the applet) were 

 which Miss Betty had sent her for she was 

 crying as if her heart would break. She 

 could hardly see the apples because cf the 

 blur of tears before her eyes, but she could 

 feel them out in their places among the 

 grass, and it was not long before she had 

 her basket full. The tree under which 

 she gathered them was a gnarled old speci- 

 men that had at some time in its life 

 been half broken down by a storm. Its 

 limbs swept the ground on all sides, and 

 being under them was like being in a green 

 tent. It was so quiet and shut in there 

 that after Mary had filled her basket she 

 sat down to rest and cry. And presently, 

 worn out by her grieving, she fell asleep. 



When she woke up she was startled by 

 hearing the sound of voices near by. She 

 peered out of her leafy tent, but could see 

 no one. But she found that the tree grew 

 almost against an old stone wall, and she 

 concluded that the voices she had heard 

 came from the other side of it. 



She did not intend to listen. She 

 thought only of getting away unobserved. 

 But a few words that she could not help 

 hearing caught her attention. She knew 

 from what she heard that Miss Betty was 

 being talked about, and she recognized the 

 voice of the speaker as belonging to one 

 of the tramps that had called on her aunt 

 that morning. 



"The old woman's got money, an' it's 

 likely she's got some about the house," 

 the man said. "Her kind o' folks always 

 keep some 'round, hid away in ol' teapots 

 an' bureau drawers, an' such like places. 

 She's the same oF skinflint that chum o' 

 yours was tellin' about when we met him 

 last week, I'm positive. You know he said 

 she lived alone, an' that her neighbors all 

 thought she kep' considerable money by 

 her, so's 't would be ha-ndy when she drove 

 one o' her sharp barg'ins, an' he said she 

 was stingy an' cross, an' death on tramps, 

 you remember. The woman we run afoul 

 of this mornin' is the same one, I'm sure. 



