Barefoot started so
that the cow winced and almost over-turned the milk-pail.
"And you shall have a good present, too," added John; and he let a
dollar that he already had in his hand, slip back into his pocket.
"I'll tell you something more," Barefoot resumed, moving on to another
cow; "the sexton is an enemy of my master's--I want you to know that in
case he tries to get hold of you."
"Yes, yes, it's evidently worth while to talk with you. But I notice
that you have a swollen face; there's no point in your tying your head
up, if you continue to go about barefoot like that."
"I am used to it," replied Barefoot, "but I will follow your advice.
Thank you."
Footsteps were heard approaching.
"We will talk together again," said the young man, and then he went
away.
"I thank you, swollen cheek," said Barefoot to herself, stroking her
disfigured face; "you have done me a good turn. Through you I can talk
to him as if I were not here; I can speak behind a mask, like a clown on
Shrove Tuesday. Hurrah--that is merry!"
It was wonderful how this inward cheerfulness almost counteracted her
bodily fever. She felt merely tired--indescribably tired; and she was
half-pleased and half-sorry when she saw the foreman greasing the wheels
of the Bernese chaise-wagon, and heard that her master was going to ride
out with the stranger immediately. She hurried into the kitchen, and
there she overheard the farmer saying to John in the parlor:
"If you care to take a ride, John, that would be fine.
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