do, and you are right. Our women never have done such. Only in the war times my Grandmother Caswell did it, and I can now. A girl can do what she must. I have no way to turn but to live as my people have lived before me. I thought once I might do different, go to school and keep separate—but—" She spread out her hands with a hopeless gesture, and rose to resume her work.
"Give me a moment longer. I'm not through yet. That's right, now listen. I see the truth of what you say, and I came down this morning to make a proposition to your mother—not for your sake only—don't be afraid, for my own as well; but I didn't make it because I hadn't time. She told me what you were doing, and I hurried off to stop you. Don't speak yet, let me finish. I feel I have the right, because I know—I know I was sent here just now for a purpose—guided to come here." He paused to allow his words to have their full weight. Whether she would perceive his meaning remained to be seen.
"I understand." She spoke quietly. "Doctor Hoyle sent you to be helped like he was—and you have been right kind to more than us. You've helped that many it seems like you were sent here for we-all as well as for your own sake, but that can't help me now, Doctor; it—"
"Ah, yes it can. I'm far from well yet. I shall be, but I must stay on for a long time, and I want some interest here. I want to see things of my own growing. The ground up around my little cabin is stony and very poor, and I want to rent this little farm of yours. Listen—I'll pay enough so you need not sell your cattle, and you—you can go on with your weaving. You can