She meant to cuddle the child, and give him the "forty kisses" which,
at last, he was ready to accept, and let him chatter of all his
multitudinous interests. Then she would send him away, and begin her
empty life. The page which had held a promise of joy, would be turned
over; a new, dreary chapter, with no promise in it, would begin....
David came in the afternoon. He was a little late, and explained his
tardiness by saying that he had found a toad, and tying a string
around its waist, had tried to play horse with it, up the hill. "But
he wouldn't drive," David said disgustedly; "maybe he was a lady toad;
I don't know."
"Perhaps the poor toad didn't like to be driven," Helena suggested.
David looked thoughtful. "David," she said, "I am going away. Will you
write a little letter to me sometimes?"
"Maybe," said David. And slapped his pocket, in a great flurry; "Dr.
Lavendar ga' me a letter for you!"
She glanced at it to see if it needed an answer, but it was only to
ask her to stop at the Rectory before she left town the next morning.
"Tell Dr. Lavendar I will, darling," she said, and David nodded.
She was sitting before the parlor fire; the little boy was leaning
against her knee braiding three blades of grass; he was deeply
absorbed. Helena took his face between her hands, and looked at it;
then, to hide the trembling of her lips, she hid them in his neck.
"You tickle!" said David, and wriggled out of her arms with chuckles
of fun. "I'm making you a ring," he said.
She let him push the little grass circlet over her finger, and then
closed her hand on it lest it should slip off. "You won't forget me,
David, will you?"
"No," he said surprised; "I never forget anything. I remember
everything the magician did. An' I remember when I was born."
"Oh, David!"
"I do. I remember my brother's candy horse. My brother--was--was, oh,
seven or eight weeks older 'an me. Yes; I'll not forget you; not till
I'm old. Not till I'm twenty, maybe. I guess I'll go now. We are going
to have Jim Crow for dessert. Mary told me. You're prettier than Mary.
Or Dr. Lavendar." This was a very long speech for David, and to make
up for it he was silent for several minutes. He took her hand, and
twisted the little grass ring round and round on her finger; and then,
suddenly, his chin quivered. "I don't like you. You're going away," he
said; he stamped his foot and threw himself against her knee in a
paroxysm of tears. "I hate you!"