Word went forth to the edge of the crowd that the little girl needed
water to revive her, and half a dozen boys raced to the nearest house
for a tin pailful.
With love-feast tenderness the neighborhood mothers administered the
dripping cup to little Rose Tracy when the boys returned. Her face
and head were bathed, and hands and feet cooled. The old women all
prescribed for her, and her mother listened to everybody with
distended eyes, but fell into such frequent paroxysms of kissing her
little girl that some of the boys ducked their heads to chuckle. This
extravagant affection was more than they could endure.
"But where's that woman?" inquired Robert Day. He stood up on the
seat behind his grandmother and Mrs. Tracy, and could see all over
the house, but his eyes roamed unsuccessfully after the English
player. The people having their interest diverted by that question,
turned their heads and began to ask each other where she was. Nobody
had noticed her leave the church, but it was a common thing to be
passing in and out during Sunday school. She had made her escape.
Half the assembly would have pursued her on the instant; she could
not be far away. But Mrs.
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