Ruthie, don't you suppose you and I can carry her up stairs ?" Not a word yet about the naughtiness; but plenty of pity and soft poultices for the wounded foot.
"She's a very queer child," thought Ruth, coming down stairs afterwards to steep hops for some beer; "a very odd child.

She has something on her mind; but _we_ shan't be any the wiser till she gets ready to tell it.".