Go along; I'm tired
now. Don't bother me any more, Gid; I want to sleep."
The old man thrust the treasured bankbook under Laurella's pillow, and
hurried away. Downstairs in the dining room Johnnie was eating her
breakfast.
"Johnnie," said Mavity Bence, keeping behind the girl's chair as she
served the meal to her at the end of the long table, "I ain't never done
you a meanness yet, have I? And you know I've got all the good will in
the world toward you--now don't you?"
"Why, of course, Aunt Mavity," returned Johnnie wonderingly, trying to
get sight of the older woman's face.
Mrs. Bence took a plate and hurried out for more biscuits. She came back
with some resolution plainly renewed in her mind.
"Johnnie," she began once more, "there's something I've got to tell you.
Your Uncle Pros has got away from 'em up at the hospital, and to the
hills, and--and--I have obliged to tell you."
"Yes, I know," returned Johnnie passively. "They sent me word last
night. I'm sorry, but I can't do anything about it. Maybe he won't come
to any harm out that way. I can't imagine Uncle Pros hurting anybody.
Perhaps it will do him good."
"Hit wasn't about your Uncle Pros that I was meaning. At least not about
his gettin' away from the hospital," amended Mavity. "It was about the
day he got hurt here. I--I always aimed to tell you.
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