VI. “There Was Someone Crying—there Was!”

           Thenextdaytherainpoureddownintorrentsagain,andwhenMarylookedoutofherwindowthemoorwasalmosthiddenbygraymistandcloud.Therecouldbenogoingouttoday.

           “Whatdoyoudoinyourcottagewhenitrainslikethis?”sheaskedMartha.

           “Trytokeepfromundereachother’sfeetmostly,”Marthaanswered.“Eh!theredoesseemalotofusthen.Mother’sagood-temperedwomanbutshegetsfairmoithered.Thebiggestonesgoesoutinth’cow-shedandplaysthere.Dickonhedoesn’tmindth’wet.Hegoesoutjustth’sameasifth’sunwasshinin’.Hesaysheseesthingsonrainydaysasdoesn’tshowwhenit’sfairweather.Heoncefoundalittlefoxcubhalfdrownedinitsholeandhebroughtithomeinth’bosomofhisshirttokeepitwarm.Itsmotherhadbeenkillednearbyan’th’holewasswumoutan’th’resto’th’litterwasdead.He’sgotitathomenow.Hefoundahalf-drownedyoungcrowanothertimean’hebroughtithome,too,an’tamedit.It’snamedSootbecauseit’ssoblack,an’ithopsan’fliesaboutwithhimeverywhere.”

           ThetimehadcomewhenMaryhadforgottentoresentMartha’sfamiliartalk.Shehadevenbeguntofinditinterestingandtobesorrywhenshestoppedorwentaway.ThestoriesshehadbeentoldbyherAyahwhenshelivedinIndiahadbeenquiteunlikethoseMarthahadtotellaboutthemoorlandcottagewhichheldfourteenpeoplewholivedinfourlittleroomsandneverhadquiteenoughtoeat.Thechildrenseemedtotumbleaboutandamusethemselveslikealitterofrough,good-naturedcolliepuppies.