ose
who do love them, Biddy was really Dely's friend. Many a long day passed
when no human face but the baby's greeted her from dawn till dusk, But
the cow's beautiful purple eyes always turned to welcome her as she
entered its shed-door; her wet muzzle touched Dely's cheek with a velvet
caress; and while her mistress drew from the downy bag its white and
rich stores, Biddy would turn her head round, and eye her with such mild
looks, and breathe such fragrance toward her, that Dely, in her solitary
and friendless state, came to regard her as a real sentient being,
capable of love and sympathy, and had an affection for her that would
seem utter nonsense to half, perhaps three quarters, of the people in
this unsentimental world. Many a time did the lonely little woman lay
her head on Biddy's neck, and talk to her about George with sobs and
silences interspersed; and many a piece of dry bread steeped in warm
water, or golden carrot, or mess of stewed turnips and bran flavored the
dry hay that was the staple of the cow's diet. The cat was old now, and
objected to the baby so strenuously that Dely regarded her as partly
insane from age; and though she was kind to her of course, and fed her
faithfully, still a cat that could growl at George's baby was not
regarded with the same complacent kindness that had always blessed her
before; and whenever the baby was asleep at milking-time, Pussy was
locked into the closet,--a proceeding she resented. Biddy, on the
contrary, seemed to admire the child,--she certainly did not object to
her,--and necessarily obtained thereby a far higher place in Dely's
heart than the cat.

As I have already said, Dely had heard of her step-father's death some
time before; and one stormy day, the last week in March, a team coming
from Hanerford with grain stopped at the door of the little red house,
and the driver handed Dely a dirty and ill-written letter from her
mother. Just such an epistle it was as might have been expected from
Mrs. Kenyon,--full of weak sorrow, and entreaties to Dely to come home
and live; she was old and tired, the bakery was coming to trouble for
want of a good manager, the foreman was a rogue, and the business
failing fast, and she wanted George and Dely there: evidently, she had
not heard, when the letter began, of George's departure or baby's birth;
but the latter half said, "Cum, anyway. I want to se the Baby. Ime an
old critur, a sinking into my graiv, and when george cums