s wandered to her neatly arranged hair, to the white collar at
her throat, then down to her blue serge dress and her dainty shoes. But
mostly she looked straight into the eyes of her new friend and found
there sincerity and evident good will. So she sighed deeply, cast a
glance at her own bedraggled attire, and said:

"We ain't much alike, us two, but I guess we kin be friends. Other
girls has come here, to the rich people's houses, but they all stuck up
their noses at me. You're the first that's ever give me a word."

"All girls are not alike, you know," responded Mary Louise cheerfully.
"So now, let's go to your house and see what damage has been done."

CHAPTER IV
GETTING ACQUAINTED

The two girls had been sitting on the edge of the bridge, but Mary
Louise now rose and took Ingua's arm in her own, leading the reluctant
child gently toward the path. It wasn't far to the old cottage and when
they reached the yard Ingua laughed again at the scene of disorder.

"It's a'most a pity Gran'dad can't see it," she chuckled. "He'd be so
crazy he'd hev them claws o' his'n 'round my throat in a jiffy."

Mary Louise drew back, startled.

"Did he ever do that?" she asked.

"Only once; but that time near ended me. It were a long time ago, an'
he was sorry, I guess, 'cause he bought me a new dress nex' day--an'
new shoes! I ain't had any since," she added disconsolately, "so the
other day I asked him wasn't it about time he choked me ag'in."

"What did he say to that?"

"Jes' growled at me. Gran'dad's got a awful temper when he's good an'
riled, but usual' he's still as a mouse. Don't say a word to me fer
days together, sometimes. Once I saw him--"

She suddenly checked herself and cast an uneasy, sidelong glance at her
companion. Mary Louise was rolling the washtub back to the stoop.

"The only thing that will bother us, Ingua," she said, "is those
dishes. Let us try to count the broken ones. Do you know how many there
were?"

"Sure I do," answered the girl, removing the battered dishpan from the
heap of crockery. "Two plates, two cups-'n'-saucers, a oatmeal dish, a
bread plate an' the pork platter. Gee! what a smash. One cup's whole--
an' the oatmeal dish. The rest is gone-up."

"I'm going to dig a hole and bury the broken pieces," said Mary Louise.
"Have you a spade?"

"There's an ol' shovel. But it won't do no good to bury of 'em.
Gran'dad he counts ev'ry piece ev'ry day. He counts ev'ry thing, from
the gra