tty if it were not so thin and drawn. The hands lying on her lap
were red and calloused with housework and the child's whole appearance
indicated neglect, from the broken-down shoes to the soiled and
tattered dress. She seemed to be reflecting, for after a while she gave
a short, bitter laugh at the recollection of her late exhibition of
temper and said:

"It's too late to back, down now. I've busted the dishes an' smashed
things gen'rally."

"That _is_ bad," said Mary Louise; "but it might be worse. Mr. Cragg
can buy more dishes."

"Oh, he can, can he? Where's the money comin' from?"

"Is he poor?"

"He ain't got no money, if that's what ye mean. That's what he says,
anyhow. Says it were a godsend you folks rented that house of him,
'cause it'll keep us in corn bread an' pork for six months, ef we're
keerful. Bein' keerful means that he'll eat the pork an' I gits a chunk
o' corn bread now an' then."

"Dear me!" exclaimed Mary Louise in a distressed voice. "Don't you get
enough to eat?"

"Oh, I manages it somehow," declared Ingua, with indifference. "I be'n
swipin' one egg a day fer weeks an' weeks. Gran'dad says he'll trim me
good an' plenty if he catches me eatin' eggs, 'cause all that our
chickens lays he takes down to the store an' sells. But he ain't home
daytimes, to count what eggs is laid, an' so I watches out an' grabs
one a day. He's mighty cute, I tell ye, Gran'dad is; but he ain't cute
enough to catch me at the egg-swipin'."

Mary Louise was greatly shocked. Really, she decided, something must be
done for this poor child. Looking at the matter from Ingua's report,
the smashing of the dishes might prove serious. So she said:

"Come, dear, let's go together to your house and see if we can't
restore the damage."

But the girl shook her head.

"Noth'n' can't mend them busted dishes," she said, "an' when Gran'dad
sees 'em he'll hev a fit. That's why I did it; I wanted to show him I'd
had revenge afore I quit him cold. He won't be home till night, but I
gotta be a long way off, afore then, so's he can't ketch me."

"Give it up," suggested Mary Louise. "I've come here to live all
summer, Ingua, and now that we're friends I'm going to help you to get
along more comfortably. We will have some splendid times together, you
and I, and you will be a good deal better off than wandering among
strangers who don't care for you."

The girl turned and looked into Mary Louise's face long and earnestly.
Her eye