road all day," he said, "and I won't take her out till
to-morrow; so if you don't mind, I'll leave her with you until I come
back. She'll be all right and happy, won't you, Sheba?"

Secretly Sheba felt some slight doubt of this; but in her desire to do
him credit, she summed up all her courage and heroically answered that
she would, and so was borne off to the dining-room, where two girls were
cutting bread and slicing ham for supper. They were Mrs. Sparkes's
daughters, and when they saw the child, dropped their knives and made a
good-natured rush at her, for which she was not at all prepared.

"Now, mother," they cried, "whar's she from, 'n who does she b'long to?"

Mrs. Sparkes cast a glance at her charge, which Sheba caught and was
puzzled by. It was a mysterious glance, with something of cautious pity
in it.

"Set her up in a cheer, Luce," she said, "'n give her a piece of cake.
Don't ye want some, honey?"

Sheba regarded her with uplifted eyes as she replied. The glance had
suggested to her mind that Mrs. Sparkes was sorry for her, and she was
anxious to know why.

"No," she answered, "no, thank you, I don't want any."

She sat quite still when they put her into a chair, but she did not
remove her eyes from Mrs. Sparkes.

"Who does she b'long to, anyhow?" asked Luce.

Mrs. Sparkes lowered her voice as she answered:

"She don't b'long to nobody, gals," she said. "It's thet little critter
big Tom D'Willerby from Talbot's Cross-roads took to raise."

"Ye don't say. Pore little thing," exclaimed the girls. And while one of
them stooped to kiss her cheek, the other hurriedly produced a large red
apple, which she laid on the long table before her.

But Sheba did not touch it. To hear that she belonged to nobody was a
mysterious shock to her. There had never seemed any doubt before that she
belonged to her Uncle Tom, but Mrs. Sparkes had quite separated her from
him in her statement. Suddenly she began to feel a little tired, and not
quite so happy as she had been. But she sat still and listened, rendered
rather tremulous by the fact that the speakers seemed so sure they had
reason to pity her.

"Ef ever thar was a mystery," Mrs. Sparkes proceeded, "thet thar was one;
though Molly Hollister says D'Willerby don't like it talked over. Nobody
knowed 'em, not even their names, an' nobody knowed whar they come from.
She died, 'n he went away--nobody knowed whar; 'n the child wasn't two
days old when he done it.