She seemed to study Virginia Deering in her turn. It was a proud face, yet soft and tender, friendly. It touched the reticent little soul.
“No; Owen’s my brother. There’s some more boys, an’ we keep house. Patsey is—Patsey’s alwers been good to me an’ Bess.”
There was a touching inflection in her tone.
“Who is Bess?” with a persuasive entreaty that found its way to the lonely heart.
“Bess is—Bess was”—The voice trembled and died out. Virginia Deering slipped her arm about the small figure with a sympathetic nearness. Dil made another effort.
“Bess was my poor little hurted sister. I didn’t ever have no other one.”
“Don’t you want to tell me about her? I should so like to hear. How did she get hurt?”
Virginia Deering had of late been taking lessons in divine as well as human sympathy. She was willing to begin at the foundation with the least of these.
Dil looked across the sunny field to the shaded, waving woods. There had never been any one to whom she could tell all of Bess’s story. Mrs. Brian, tender and kindly, had not understood. A helpless feeling came over her.
“I wonder if she loved roses? Did she ever have any?” Miss Deering laid her finger on those in Dil’s hand, then felt under and clasped the hand itself.
Dil was suddenly roused. The grave face seemed transfigured. Where had she seen it—under far different auspices?
“She had some wild roses wunst. Oh, do you know what wild roses is? I looked in the woods for some yest’day.”
Wild roses! She had set herself to bear her lot, bruised and wrecked in an evil moment, with all the bravery of true repentance.
“Yes,” in a soft, constrained tone. “I have always loved them. And last summer where I was staying there were hundreds of them.”
“Oh,” cried Dil eagerly, “that was jest what _he_ said. It was clear away to las’ summer. Patsey was up to Grand Cent’l deepo’. He carried bags an’ such. An’ a beautiful young lady gev him a great bunch. Casey made a grab fer thim, but Patsey snatched, an’ he’s strongest, ’n’ he gev it to Casey good till a cop come, ’n’ then he run all the way to Barker’s Court an’ brought thim to Bess an’ me.”
“A great bunch of wild roses! Oh, then I know something about Patsey. It was one day in August. And—and I had the roses.”