killed?"

   "Who would do that?"

   "Gran'dad would, if I blabbed."

   "Shucks!"

   "Ye don't know Gran'dad—not when he's got the temper on him. If ye'd seen what I seen, ye'd know that he'd keep his word—'to, kill me if I talk too much."

   Josie sat down on top the bank.

   "What did you see, Ingua?"

   "Ye'll hev to guess it."

   "It looks that way," said Josie calmly; "but you needn't be afraid of

    me,

   Ingua. You and I could know a lot of things, together, and keep 'em to ourselves. Don't you think I'm a good enough friend not to get you choked or killed by telling any secrets you confided to me? And—look here, Ingua—this secret is worrying you a good deal."

   "Who says so?"

   "I do. You'd feel a heap better if you told me about it, for then we could talk it over together when we're alone."

   Ingua sat down beside her, gazing thoughtfully at the river.

   "You'd tell Mary Louise."

   "You know better than that. A secret's a secret, isn't it? I guess I can keep my mouth shut when I want to, Ingua."

   Josie had a way of imitating Ingua's mode of speech when they were together. It rendered their intercourse more free and friendly. But the girl did not reply at once. She sat dreamily reflecting upon the proposition and its possible consequences. Finally she said in a hesitating way:

   "I wisht I knew what ter do. I sometimes think I orter tell somebody that knows more'n I do, Josie, if I ever blab at all."

   "Try me, Ingua. I'm 

 Prev. P 48/134 next