A Girl of the Limberlost | Page 9

I swear to gracious, I never could. I've heard her out at the edge
of that quagmire calling in them wild spells of hers off and on for the
last sixteen years, and imploring the swamp to give him back to her,
and I've got out of bed when I was pretty tired, and come down to see
she didn't go in herself, or harm you. What she feels is too deep for me.
I've got to respectin' her grief, and I can't get over it. Go home and tell
your ma, honey, and ask her nice and kind to help you. If she won't,
then you got to swallow that little lump of pride in your neck, and come
to Aunt Maggie, like you been a-coming all your life."
"I'll ask mother, but I can't take your money, Uncle Wesley, indeed I
can't. I'll wait a year, and earn some, and enter next year."
"There's one thing you don't consider, Elnora," said the man earnestly.
"And that's what you are to Maggie. She's a little like your ma. She
hasn't given up to it, and she's struggling on brave, but when we buried

our second little girl the light went out of Maggie's eyes, and it's not
come back. The only time I ever see a hint of it is when she thinks she's
done something that makes you happy, Elnora. Now, you go easy about
refusing her anything she wants to do for you. There's times in this
world when it's our bounden duty to forget ourselves, and think what
will help other people. Young woman, you owe me and Maggie all the
comfort we can get out of you. There's the two of our own we can't ever
do anything for. Don't you get the idea into your head that a fool thing
you call pride is going to cut us out of all the pleasure we have in life
beside ourselves."
"Uncle Wesley, you are a dear," said Elnora. "Just a dear! If I can't
possibly get that money any way else on earth, I'll come and borrow it
of you, and then I'll pay it back if I must dig ferns from the swamp and
sell them from door to door in the city. I'll even plant them, so that they
will be sure to come up in the spring. I have been sort of panic stricken
all day and couldn't think. I can gather nuts and sell them. Freckles sold
moths and butterflies, and I've a lot collected. Of course, I am going
back to-morrow! I can find a way to get the books. Don't you worry
about me. I am all right!
"Now, what do you think of that?" inquired Wesley Sinton of the
swamp in general. "Here's our Elnora come back to stay. Head high and
right as a trivet! You've named three ways in three minutes that you
could earn ten dollars, which I figure would be enough, to start you.
Let's go to supper and stop worrying!"
Elnora unlocked the case, took out the pail, put the napkin in it, pulled
the ribbon from her hair, binding it down tightly again and followed to
the road. From afar she could see her mother in the doorway. She
blinked her eyes, and tried to smile as she answered Wesley Sinton, and
indeed she did feel better. She knew now what she had to expect, where
to go, and what to do. Get the books she must; when she had them, she
would show those city girls and boys how to prepare and recite lessons,
how to walk with a brave heart; and they could show her how to wear
pretty clothes and have good times.
As she neared the door her mother reached for the pail. "I forgot to tell

you to bring home your scraps for the chickens," she said.
Elnora entered. "There weren't any scraps, and I'm hungry again as I
ever was in my life."
"I thought likely you would be," said Mrs. Comstock, "and so I got
supper ready. We can eat first, and do the work afterward. What kept
you so? I expected you an hour ago."
Elnora looked into her mother's face and smiled. It was a queer sort of a
little smile, and would have reached the depths with any normal
mother.
"I see you've been bawling," said Mrs. Comstock. "I thought you'd get
your fill in a hurry. That's why I wouldn't go to any expense. If we keep
out of the poor- house we have to cut the corners close. It's likely this
Brushwood road tax will eat up all we've saved in years. Where the
land tax is to come from I don't know. It gets bigger every year. If they
are going