“Let me light up the fire for you?” asked Huldah, eagerly.  “You do look cold, ma’am.  Shall I make you a cup of tea, or get you some milk or something?”

The scene they had just passed through seemed to have broken down some barrier, and drawn them as close together as though they had known each other a long time.

Martha Perry hesitated a moment, though not now because she distrusted Huldah.  She was thinking, ought she to afford it?” Yes, child,” she answered, at last.  “I don’t believe I could sleep if I went to bed as I am, I feel all unstrung and chilled.”  Then her mind went back to the thought which troubled her most—­“I wonder if the fowls will be really all right,” she mused, anxiously.

“Oh yes, ma’am.”  Huldah had no doubts on that point.  “Those fellows would be afraid to come back.  Dick did give them a scare, springing out of the dark on them like that, and they’re too hurt about the legs to want to walk any further than they can help, yet awhile!”

“Oh yes, of course,” in accents of great relief, “I’d forgotten.  They wouldn’t want to come and face Dick again, and they wouldn’t know but what he was mine, and always living here.”

A bright idea came to Huldah.  “Would you like me to let Dick out into the garden again.  He’d see that nobody came into it.  Nobody wouldn’t dare touch anything with him there, I know!”

The suggestion evidently pleased Mrs. Perry, and relieved her greatly.  “Now that would be a comfort,” she said, gratefully.  “I’d feel ever so safe then.  On a warm night like this he can’t hurt, can he?”

Huldah laughed.  “Dick doesn’t know what ’tis to sleep in,” she said.  “The most he ever had was a sack thrown down under the van, unless when Charlie was put in a stable, and they’d let Dick go in too, but Uncle Tom liked best to have him about, to guard the van.”

All the time she was talking she was laying in the fire quickly and deftly.  Mrs. Perry watched her interestedly.  She felt the comfort of having someone cheerful to speak to; and when she remembered that but for this little stray waif she would have been alone now, and her hen-house robbed, her heart was very full of gratitude.

“Miss Rosamund will blame me when she hears about it,” she said, presently.  “She was always telling me I ought to have a strong lock on the hen-house door.  She said it was tempting folk to be dishonest,—­not to have anything but just the latch, and me known to keep good fowls always.  ’Twas Miss Rose that gave them to me,” she explained.  “I mean, she gave me a sitting of her prize eggs, and every one hatched out.”

“Oh my!” exclaimed Huldah, who had filled the kettle, and was now waiting for it to boil.  She was immensely interested in all she saw and heard, and there seemed so much to see and hear in this new life into which she had suddenly found her way.  “Is Miss Rose a—­a lady?” She only put the question in the hope of leading Mrs. Perry on to talk more.