“Naw, I don’t reckon so!” said Miranda. “Don’t you worry. David’s all right somehow. I’ll take care o’ you. You go ’long up and see what’s the business, an’ I’ll wait here out o’ sight o’ the tavern. Likely’s not he might take a notion not to tell you ef he see me come along with you. You jest go ahead, and I’ll be on hand when you get through. If you need me fer anything you jest holler out ‘Randy!’ good and loud an’ I’ll hear you. Guess I’ll set on this log. The tavern’s jest round that bend in the road. Naw, you needn’t thank me. This is a real pretty mornin’ to set an’ rest. Good-bye.” Marcia hurried on, glancing back happily at her protector in a calico sunbonnet seated stolidly on a log with her tin pail beside her. Poor stupid Miranda! Of course she could not understand what a comfort it was to have confided her trouble. Marcia went up to the tavern with almost a smile on her face, though her heart began to beat wildly as a slatternly girl led her into a big room at the right of the hall. As Marcia disappeared behind the bend in the road, Miranda stealthily stole along the edge of the woods, till she stood hidden behind a clump of alders where she could peer out and watch Marcia until she reached the tavern and passed safely by the row of lounging, smoking men, and on into the doorway. Then Miranda waited just an instant to look in all directions, and sped across the road, mounting the fence and on through two meadows, and the barnyard to the kitchen door of the tavern. “Mornin’! Mis’ Green,” she said to the slovenly looking woman who sat by the table peeling potatoes. “Mind givin’ me a drink o’ water? I’m terrible thirsty, and seemed like I couldn’t find the spring. Didn’t thare used to be a spring ’tween here’n town?” “Goodness sakes! Randy! Where’d you come from? Water! Jes’ help yourself. There’s the bucket jes’ from the spring five minutes since, an’ there’s the gourd hanging up on the wall. I can’t get up, I’m that busy. Twelve to dinner to-day, an’ only me to do the cookin’. ’Melia she’s got to be upstairs helpin’ at the bar.” “Who all you got here?” questioned Miranda as she took a draught from the old gourd. “Well, got a gentleman from New York fur one. He’s real pretty. Quite a beau. His clo’es are that nice you’d think he was goin’ to court. He’s that particular ’bout his eatin’ I feel flustered. Nothin’ would do but he hed to hev a downstairs room. He said he didn’t like goin’ upstairs. He don’t look sickly, neither.” “Mebbe he’s had a accident an’ lamed himself,” suggested Miranda cunningly. “Heard o’ any accidents? How’d he come? Coach or horseback?” “Coach,” said Mrs. Green. “Why do you ask? Got any friends in New York?”