Little Nan had been wearying all morning for
a run in the wintry sunshine, out of the close steam of washing in the
small hut; but Martha had not dared to let her run about alone, as she
had been used to do at Fern's Hollow, in their safe garden. After Martha
and Black Bess had left her, the child stood looking wistfully through
the open door for some time; but at last she ventured over the door-sill,
and her tiny feet painfully climbed the frozen bank behind the house,
whence she could see the group of girls in the lane below. Perhaps she
would have found her way down to them, but Martha had been cross with her
all the morning, and the child's little spirit was frightened with her
scolding. She turned back to the cabin, sobbing, for the north wind blew
coldly upon her; and then she must have caught sight of the shaft, where
Stephen had been throwing stones down for her the night before, without a
thought of the little one trying to pursue the dangerous game alone. As
Martha came over the cinder-hill, her eyes fell upon little Nan, rosy,
laughing, screaming with delight as her tiny hands lifted a large stone
high above her curly head, while she bent over the unguarded margin of
the pit.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118