Dick and Brownie | Page 5

sleep."
If her plight had been less desperate, she would never have had the
courage to knock again, but she felt ill and exhausted and frightened,
and something seemed to tell her that here she might find help. So,
after waiting a little longer, she screwed up her courage again, and
rapped once more, this time more loudly; and this time, at any rate, her
knock called forth response. There were sounds of hasty shuffling steps
across the floor, and then a voice, old and evidently trembling, called
through the door, "Who is there?"
Huldah was puzzled how to answer. If she were to say "me," it would
be only foolish, while if she called back, "I am Huldah Bate," her
hearer would not know who Huldah Bate was. However, she had to say
something, so she called back pleadingly, "I am a little girl, Huldah
Bate, and please, ma'am, I'm starving, and--and please open the door. I
can't hurt you, I am too little."

It was her voice even more than her words which induced Martha Perry
to open her door to the suppliant. It was such a childish voice, and so
weak, and pleading, and tired. So the bolts were drawn back, and the
door was opened. It was only opened a few inches, but wide enough to
let out a stream of light, which brought some comfort and hope to the
child's heart and the dog's heart. Huldah stepped forward into the light
to show herself.
"You are sure you 'aven't got anybody with you?" asked the woman,
with nervous suspicion.
"No, ma'am, no one but Dick."
"Who's Dick?" hastily pushing the door close, in her alarm.
"Dick's my dog. He--he followed me. He's starving, too," and a sob
broke from Huldah's throat. "We wouldn't hurt you, ma'am, for
anything; we couldn't, we're dead-beat. I haven't had anything to eat
since yesterday, and we've come miles and miles. I don't want to come
in, ma'am," she pleaded, more and more eagerly, as the door remained
rigidly closed, except for about three inches. "If only you'll give us a bit
of bread. I haven't got any money, but I'll give you one of my baskets
for it. Oh, please, ma'am, don't turn us away!" The tears began to rain
down her thin white cheeks. She had borne all that she could bear, and
she had not the strength to keep them back any longer.
Dick, who could never bear to see his little mistress crying, pushed
himself forward; first he licked Huldah's hand, and then seated himself
in front of her, as though to protect her from the ogress who made her
cry. Something in the ogress's face, though, told Dick that she was not a
real ogress, and he looked up at her with a world of pleading in his big
brown eyes, and his long tail waving coaxingly.
"Poor doggie!" exclaimed the ogress. "Poor Dick, are you hungry, too?
You do look tired and thin. Yes, you shall come in;" and the narrow
stream of light became a wide river, which broke over the pair and
surrounding them drew them in, until they found themselves safely
landed in the cosiest little kitchen Huldah had ever seen.

It was really a very humble little kitchen, with signs of poverty
everywhere, but to Huldah it was a palace. It was spotlessly clean, and
as neat as a new pin, and to a child who had spent the greater part of
her life in a dirty, untidy caravan, this was a sign of superiority, even of
luxury.
To Dick the cleanness and neatness meant nothing, the rag mat before
the hearth was the most luxurious thing he had ever seen in the whole
of his life, and he stretched his lanky aching body on it with a deep sigh
of perfect bliss, and promptly fell asleep.
Huldah and old Mrs. Perry meanwhile stood in the middle of the
kitchen surveying each other.
"Sit down, child," said Martha, at last, "you look fit to drop." She spoke
brusquely but not unkindly.
"Thank you, ma'am," said Huldah, gratefully, and perched herself, with
a long-drawn breath of excitement, on the edge of the hard chair nearest
the door.
"Not there. Go and sit in the arm-chair by the fire-place. Would you
like a cup of tea?"
"Oh!" gasped Huldah, almost too delighted to be able to find words to
answer with. There was more pleasure, though, in her tone than any
number of words could have conveyed.
"The kettle is on the boil. I was just going to have a cup myself, before
I went to bed."
"Oh, thank you, ma'am!" gasped Huldah, feebly, but again with a world
of gratitude in her tone.
"Put down your load for a time, then, and rest