side out so's they look fresher'n new. New-fangled idee this—not givin' medicine. Did they give your mother medicine?"
"Yes, lots of it. She died."
"I ain't felt like dyin'," admitted Huldah simply. "I feel considerable like livin'. But when I ask fer things I want 'em. That's no disease," she added thoughtfully.
Two weeks passed, and with them many signs of Huldah's spleen. Her morbid anxiety about cobwebs and dirt gave place to a modified interest in Nina's new work, but the hours Huldah shared with the unknown twins seemed seriously to upset her. Besides, half Henry's time was now spent carrying and fetching for Nina. Huldah had lived a unit too long to become a proper fraction.
Sitting out one day under a low apple-tree, she hulled one great strawberry after another, feeling a dull sense of loss. Then there was a touch of rebellion. Why should Dr. Bliss choose her illness to promote his own schemes? What right had Nina to appropriate Henry? She was nothing to them, yet Henry seemed to feel that only the best carriage was good enough for Nina to ride in. Huldah's resentment grew. It had become almost a prejudice when a clicking gate disconcerted her. Raising her eyes suddenly, she met those of a loudly dressed stranger, who approached with something like a swagger and raised a silk hat.
"Mrs. Dodge," he said, "I'm looking for a young girl, and the loose end of a contract."
Five more berries were separated from their hulls and tossed into the glass dish before Huldah replied.
"What kind of a contract?" she asked.
"Business contract; money for music; promise for promise. I'm a man of a few words," he added, shifting his big cigar to the opposite corner of his mouth. "She made a hit at my 'Little Moonbeam.' I've got the dough, an' I'm no tight-wad where good looks is concerned." With a significant wink, he reached his hand deep into his trousers pocket."What does she want?" he asked pompously.
"To be let alone," was Huldah's terse reply. "The end o' that contract ain't loose. I've got it."
"Then, you're why she skids? What's your price?"
"More'n your whole music hall's worth!"
The stranger raised his brows, pursed his lips, and wagged his head slowly. "Where's the girl?" he asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth and contemplating its lighted end.
"With her step-father, and he's more particular'n I be. You'll find a path right back o' that maple. It's a shorter cut to the station than you come, an' you ain't so apt to meet the bulldog."
The stranger faltered, but there was no sign of mirth in Huldah's eyes.
