She was tired and perhaps that is why she became angry.
"You go straight to your bed," she said, with her mouth
hard and her eyes glinting like cold flint, "and none of
your nonsense, or you can go straight back to town."
When Pearl again reached the little stifling room, she
fell on her knees and prayed.
"Dear God," she said, "there's gurms here as thick as
hair on a dog's back, and You and me know it, even if
she don't. I don't know what to do, dear Lord--the windy
is nelt down. Keep the gurms from gittin' into me, dear
Lord. Do ye mind how poor Jeremiah was let down into the
mire and ye tuk care o' him, didn't ye? Take care o' me,
dear Lord. Poor ma has enough to do widout me comin' home
clutterin' up the house wid sickness. Keep yer eye on
Danny if ye can at all, at all. He's awful stirrin'. I'll
try to git the windy riz to-morrow by hook or crook, so
mebbe it's only to-night ye'll have to watch the gurms.
Amen."
Pearl braided her hair into two little pigtails, with
her little dilapidated comb. When she brought out the
contents of the bird-cage and opened it in search of her
night-dress, the orange rolled out, almost frightening
her. The purse, too, rattled on the bare floor as it
fell.
She picked it up, and by going close to the fly-specked
window she counted the ten ten-cent pieces, a whole
dollar. Never was a little girl more happy.
"It was Camilla," she whispered to herself. "Oh, I love
Camilla! and I never said 'God bless Camilla,'"--with a
sudden pang of remorse.
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