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Crowley, Mary Catherine

"Apples, Ripe and Rosy, Sir"

It's a leetle girl, sirs; says she's
twelve year old, but small of her age--nothin' but a child, though I
reckon life's used her hard, pore creetur! Yer should a-seen her when
she 'rived. Her shoes war most wore off with walkin', an' her purty
leetle feet all blistered an' sore. Mirandy 'marked to me arterward
that her gown war a good deal tore with comin' through the brambles,
though she'd tried to tidy it up some by pinnin' the rents together
with thorns. But, land sakes, I did not take notice of that: my eyes
were jest fastened on her peaked face. White as a ghost's, sirs; an'
her dull-lookin', big black eyes, that stared at us, yet didn't seem
ter see nothin'.
"Wa-all, that's the way the leetle one looked when she stepped out of
the shadders. Mirandy was totin' water from the spring yonder, an'
when she see her she jest dropped the bucket an' screamed--thought it
was a spook, yer know. I war a-pilin' wood on the fire, an' when the
girl saw me she shrank back a leetle; but when she ketched sight o'
Mirandy she 'peared to muster up courage, tuk a step forward, an' then
sank down all in a heap, with a kinder moan, right by the bench thar.


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