And there Nella-Rose sought him and sat beside him with a choice morsel
she had saved from her finer fare.
"Trim," she whispered when he was about to start, "here is a
letter--Miss Lois Ann wants you to mail."
The bright eyes looked yearningly into the dull, hopeless face.
"I--hate the ole 'un!" confided Bill.
"But yo' don't hate me, Bill?"
"No."
"Well, then, do it for me, but don't tell a living soul that you saw me.
See, Bill, I have a whole dollar--I earned it by berry-picking. Pay for
the letter and then keep the rest. And if you ever see Marg, and she
asks about me--and whether you've seen me--tell her" (and here
Nella-Rose's white teeth gleamed in the mischievous smile), "tell her
you saw me walking in the Hollow with Burke Lawson!"
The dull fellow shook with foolish laughter. "I sho' will!" he said, and
then tucked the letter and dollar bill in the breast of his shirt. "And
now, lil' doney-gal, let me touch yo' hand," he pleaded,
"this--er--way." And like a poor frayed, battered knight he pressed his
lips to the small, brown hand of the one person who had always been kind
to him.
At sunset Bill halted to eat his supper and warm his stiffened body. He
tried to build a fire but the wood was wet and in desperation he took,
at last, the papers from inside his thin coat, they had helped to shield
him from the cold, and utilized them to start the pine cones.
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