Mrs. Gunnage turned upon her with an air of exasperation.
“To-night, indeed! Well, I’ve more than one night to think and plan for, and I’m sure I don’t know how Miranda would manage to climb up that shaking ladder. I shall keep her down here with us for to-night, and after that we must see what can be done. I’m willing to keep you on through the winter as hired girl, if you like to stay, for your board; but, by the look of you, I shouldn’t say you’d be worth wages at present.”
“Thank you, I could not stay for my board, and I will go away to-morrow morning,” Nell said hurriedly.
“But where will you go? Your granfer said you hadn’t any friends, that was why I sort of offered to take you out of charity,” the woman said, measuring Nell’s lean length with her eye, and mentally resolving to make her so-called charity a very paying investment indeed.
Nell flushed an angry red. To her, charity was the most hateful word she knew, and synonymous with everything horrid and unkind.
“It is true that I have nowhere to go and no friends. But I am strong, and can work, so that does not matter, and I have no need of charity,” she answered, with her head held at a proud angle.
“Oh, stuck up, are you? Well, a little hard work will soon take that out of you, I reckon. Where are you off to now?” demanded Mrs. Gunnage, as Nell moved towards the door.
“I am going to finish burying our poor old dog, which died last night. I was digging a grave for it when you came,” Nell answered.
“Dead, is it? I remember Doss Umpey told my Joe the creature was pretty bad. Well, there ain’t no need for you to go out fussing about burying it. The men folks can see to that, and do you just stay here and help me get a bit straight. I could fancy a cup of coffee and a bit of food if it was got ready for me.”
“I would rather bury the dog myself, thank you,” Nell remarked, and was passing out of the door when a shrill scream from the woman arrested her steps.
“Come back, I say, and do as I told you. When I speak, I expect to be obeyed.”
“I will come and help you presently, if I have time, but I am not your hired girl, please remember,” Nell rejoined, civilly still, but with her head held at a dangerous angle, and her eyes shining with the light of battle. Then she walked away, disappearing round the corner of the house, and set to work at covering Pip in the grave she had dug, shovelling with tremendous energy in order to get her task completed before any one should disturb her.
No interruption came, however, and when she went back to the house Mrs. Gunnage was sullen, but civil.
Nell made up the fire, boiled some water, and made the tired woman some coffee. But the two loaves of bread which were her own she quietly carried up to the loft and put with the clothes from her mother’s box. She would need that bread for her long journey next day, and did not mean that it should be taken from her, by accident or otherwise.
For the remainder of the day, until darkness fell, she did her best to help Mrs. Gunnage. She cooked supper for the family, and served them all as meekly as if she were in truth the hired girl. She even shared their supper, feeling that she had certainly earned it. When darkness fell, she mounted up the swaying ladder to the loft, and then set to work on her own preparations for the future. The night was moonless, and she had no lamp or candle, but one can do a great deal by feeling when the occasion demands it.
Only two of her treasured books could be taken,—the Bible, which had been her father’s, and Longfellow; the dictionary and Bacon’s essays must be left. Perhaps Miranda Gunnage or one of the boys would like to have them.
When her preparations were quite complete, and, by the sense of touch, she had taken leave of the few treasures she must leave behind, Nell lay down on the broken camp-bed for the last time and fell asleep.
No dreams came to disturb her repose. No fears of her future stuck thorns of unrest in her pillow that night, and when the first of a family of blue birds came to twitter and stir in the great oak outside her open shutter, Nell started up broad awake, quite prepared for her plunge into the Unknown.
It was not daylight yet, for that was the western world, and the towering heights of the Rocky Mountains blocked out the earliest splendours of the rising sun. But morning would soon be here, and meanwhile there was her toilet to consider; a great affair this, for she had resolved to cast off her rags and clothe herself in the attire found in her mother’s box.
Very softly she moved, through fear of waking the sleepers down below. Yet she could not avoid little gasps and gurgles of delight as she arrayed herself in the flowing, old-fashioned skirts, and buttoned the blue bodice across her thin chest.
She had rolled her hair into a big knot at the back of her head, and when the bonnet, with its bunch of pink roses, was tied on her head, Nell felt that her appearance left nothing to be desired, and could not possibly be improved.
By this time daylight had fully come, and she was able to survey herself in the cracked piece of looking-glass, which was all the mirror she possessed. The black silk cape she had packed in with the few garments she had to carry. Her cast-off clothing was folded into a neat little heap, and Nell was wondering how soon she might venture down the ladder, to make her start out into the wide world, when a harsh voice called up from below—
“Now then, gal; when are you going to bestir yourself, or do you mean to lie there all day?”
It was the voice of Mrs. Gunnage, and, screwing her face into lines of stern resolution, Nell picked up the old canvas bag containing her clothes and the two books, then came slowly down the swaying ladder, her blue skirt folded closely round her, and the pink roses nodding in her bonnet.
“Well, you do look a figure of fun! What sort of game are you up to now?” demanded the woman, sharply; but there was an anxious look in her eyes, for she had counted rather considerably on retaining Nell as a household drudge through the winter.
“I am going away. I told you last night that I shouldn’t stay here, now that granfer has gone. And I’m obliged to start early because I’ve a long way to go. It is going to be very hot presently, then walking will be difficult.”
“You can’t go till you’ve had your breakfast.”
“Oh yes I can, thank you. I have two small loaves of bread, and I shan’t want anything else,” Nell answered, moving towards the door.
“Look here, it shan’t be said I turned you adrift. You stay here all winter, and I’ll give you a dollar a month for pocket money,” said Mrs. Gunnage, spreading her hands out to emphasize the magnificence of her offer.
“I can’t stay, thank you. I’d rather go. Good morning,” jerked out Nell. Then, stepping across the threshold, she went out to face the future, and all that it might bring.
CHAPTER V
Summoned Home
BRATLEY JUNCTION was a small depot on a branch line, and it was rather a stretch of the imagination to call it a junction at all, since it ended fifteen miles farther on at Camp’s Gulch, while the one little branch was the bit of line running up five miles into the mountains to the Roseneath Mines.
There were mines everywhere in that district. Down on the plains, up in the hoary sides of the towering hills, and tucked away in gloomy cañons the human family dug, delved, and toiled, wresting coal, iron, copper, and even silver, from the covering earth.
Then, when man had done his best, or worst, in upheaving and making desolate what Nature had intended should be wild and beautiful,