"It's away off. Away over the woods."
"And what's papa's name?"
Carrie appeared to consider the questioner rather than the question,
and for some unexpressed reason, remained silent.
"Mother," said the Quaker from the abundant goodness of his heart,
"doesn't thee mind that damson p'serve thee never let's me have
unless I take the ag'y and shake for it? Some of that would limber a
little girl's tongue, doesn't thee think?"
"It's in the far pantry on a high shelf," said the woman of the
house, demurring slightly.
"I can reach it down."
"No, I'll bring it myself. The jars are too crowded on that shelf
for a man's hands to be turned loose among 'em."
The Quaker smiled, sparkling considerably under his gray eyebrows
while his wife took another light and went after the damson
preserve. She had been gone but a moment when knocking began at the
front door, and the Quaker rose at once from his place to answer it.
[Illustration: "COME TO MAMMA."]
Robert Day and Corinne looked at each other in apprehension. They
pictured a fearful procession coming in. Even their guardian gave an
anxious start. She parted her lips to beg the Quaker not to admit any
one, but the request was absurd.
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