“Fer the land sakes!” as she looked through the window to the street.  “Not on a horse?”

“Yes.”

“H’m!  What was your ma thinkin’ about to let you do that?”

“My mother is dead.  There was no one left to care what I did.  I had to come.  There were dreadful people out there, and I was afraid.”

“Fer the land sakes!” That seemed the only remark that the capable Mrs. Brady could make.  She looked at her new granddaughter in bewilderment, as if a strange sort of creature had suddenly laid claim to relationship.

“Well, I’m right glad to see you,” she said stiffly, wiping her hand again on her apron and putting it out formally for a greeting.

Elizabeth accepted her reception gravely, and sat down.  She sat down suddenly, as if her strength had given way and a great strain was at an end.  As she sat down, she drooped her head back against the wall; and a gray look spread about her lips.

“You’re tired,” said the grandmother, energetically.  “Come far this morning?”

“No,” said Elizabeth, weakly, “not many miles; but I hadn’t any more bread.  I used it all up yesterday, and there wasn’t much money left.  I thought I could wait till I got here, but I guess I’m hungry.”

“Fer the land sakes!” ejaculated Mrs. Brady as she hustled out to the kitchen, and clattered the frying-pan onto the stove, shoving the boiler hastily aside.  She came in presently with a steaming cup of tea, and made the girl drink it hot and strong.  Then she established her in the big rocking-chair in the kitchen with a plate of appetizing things to eat, and went on with her washing, punctuating every rub with a question.

Elizabeth felt better after her meal, and offered to help, but the grandmother would not hear to her lifting a finger.

“You must rest first,” she said.  “It beats me how you ever got here.  I’d sooner crawl on me hands and knees than ride a great, scary horse.”

Elizabeth sprang to her feet.

“The horse!” she said.  “Poor fellow!  He needs something to eat worse than I did.  He hasn’t had a bite of grass all this morning.  There was nothing but hard roads and pavements.  The grass is all brown, anyway, now.  I found some cornstalks by the road, and once a man dropped a big bundle of hay out of his load.  If it hadn’t been for Robin, I’d never have got here; and here I’ve sat enjoying my breakfast, and Robin out there hungry!”

“Fer the land sakes!” said the grandmother, taking her arms out of the suds and looked troubled.  “Poor fellow!  What would he like?  I haven’t got any hay, but there’s some mashed potatoes left, and what is there?  Why, there’s some excelsior the lamp-shade come packed in.  You don’t suppose he’d think it was hay, do you?  No, I guess it wouldn’t taste very good.”

“Where can I put him, grandmother?”