John Jay looked too, feeling at the same time the
touch of a caressing hand laid lightly on his bare head, but he could
not see the lips above him that moved in a silent benediction.
When Mammy came home that night, there was wood in the box and water in
the pail. The loose boards lying around the yard had been piled up
neatly, and the paths were freshly swept. All that evening John Jay's
eyes followed her with curious glances whichever way she turned, as if
he found her changed. The change was in John Jay.
Next day, when she came home, she found the same state of affairs. It
was early in the afternoon, and the children were out playing. She hung
up her sun-bonnet, and dropped wearily down into a chair. Then,
remembering a pile of clothes that must be mended before dark, she got
up and began to hunt for her thimble and thread.
"That tawmentin' boy must have lost 'em," she exclaimed, after a vain
search through her work-basket. The clothes were lying on the bed where
she had put them. As she gathered them in her arms the thimble rolled
out, and a spool of thread with a needle sticking in it fell to the
floor.
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