"Bless my soul, Miss Charlotte, be you a-kidnappin' Martha's Stray?" she
asked, as I accepted it with enthusiasm.
"He and the dog are kidnapping me as far as Mother Spurlock's, and then
they'll let me go and come back," I answered, with a laugh, as we
started on. Not once had the strong little fingers let go of my hand as
we stood and talked and they only held the closer as we started climbing
the long, hot dusty hill to the Little House by the Side of the Road.
But in the long climb not once did the sturdy little legs lag or the
small arm drag on my strength. The clasp was one of equality and
affectionate attraction, not of dependence.