of action! She was ashamed of the
idea of speaking evil of her master's family, though, in truth, she
would have spoken so only of Rose, for the others were good. But she
was aware that it was shameful for a servant to betray the faults of the
inner management of the house. She therefore secured herself from this
by saying to herself:

"It does not become a servant to judge his master. And they are all
good-hearted," she added, prompted by her strong sense of justice. For,
in truth, Rose, too, was good-hearted, in spite of her hot temper and
domineering spirit. And now a good idea occurred to her; if she were to
tell the truth about Rose now, he would go away directly and would
certainly escape from Rose--but then he would be gone. Therefore, with
wonderful good sense, she said:

"You seem to be a prudent man, and your parents have a name for
prudence, too. Now, you know that in one day one cannot get to know even
a horse properly, and so I think you ought to stay here a little while.
Later on we two will get to know each other better, and one word will
bring on another, and if I can be of service to you, I will not fail
you. I don't know, however, why you question me like this--?"

"You are a little rogue--but I like you," said John. Barefoot started so
that the cow winced and almost over-turned the milk-pail.

"And you shall have a good present, too," added John; and he let a
dollar that he already had in his hand, slip back into his pocket.

"I'll tell you something more," Barefoot resumed, moving on to another
cow; "the sexton is an enemy of my master's--I want you to know that in
case he tries to get hold of you."

"Yes, yes, it's evidently worth while to talk with you. But I notice
that you have a swollen face; there's no point in your tying your head
up, if you continue to go about barefoot like that."

"I am used to it," replied Barefoot, "but I will follow your advice.
Thank you."

Footsteps were heard approaching.

"We will talk together again," said the young man, and then he went
away.

"I thank you, swollen cheek," said Barefoot to herself, stroking her
disfigured face; "you have done me a good turn. Through you I can talk
to him as if I were not here; I can speak behind a mask, like a clown on
Shrove Tuesday. Hurrah--that is merry!"

It was wonderful how this inward cheerfulness almost counteracted her
bodily fever. She felt merely tired--indescribably tired; and she was
half-pleased and hal