He had missed it several
weeks before, and ever since that had been suspecting old Daniel
McQuilken, a day laborer, of stealing it.
"I'm ashamed of it now," said Abner to Ruth, "though I didn't tell
anybody but you. I wish you'd mix a pitcher of sweetened water, and
let me take it out to the field to old Daniel. I feel as if I wanted
to make it up to him some way."
Ruth laughed; and when Abner came into the house at ten o'clock, she
had a pitcher of molasses and water ready for him, also a plate of
cherry turnovers. Flyaway insisted upon toddling over the ground with
one of the turnovers in her apron.
"Man," said she, when they reached the field, and she saw the Irishman
with his funny red and white hair, "what's your name, man?"
He wiped his face with his checked shirt-sleeve, and took a turnover
from her hand, bowing very low as he did so.
"Thank ee, my little lady; sense you're plazed to ask me,--my name's
Dannul."
"O, are you?" said Flyaway, looking up in surprise at the large and
oddly-dressed stranger.
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