John listened
to her as if bewildered, and seemed to be absent-minded when he spoke.
Rose went into the room, and told Barefoot to be quiet.
Late at night, when Barefoot had just drawn some water for Black
Marianne and was returning to her parents' house with the full pail on
her head, John met her as he was going to the tavern. With a suppressed
voice she bade him a "Good evening."
"Oh, it is you!" said John. "Where are you going with that water at this
time?"
"To Black Marianne."
"Who is that?"
"A poor woman, who is sick in bed."
"Why, Rose told me that there were no poor people here."
"Good heavens! there are more than enough. But Rose no doubt said that,
because she thought it would be a disgrace to the village. She's
good-hearted, you may believe me--and she's fond of giving things away."
"You are a loyal friend. But you mustn't stand there with that heavy
pail. May I go with you?"
"Why not?"
"You are right; you are doing a kind deed, and nothing can harm you. And
you need not be afraid of me."
"I am not afraid of anybody, and of you least of all. I saw today that
you are kind."
"When did you see that?"
"When you advised me how to cure my swollen face. Your advice was
good--you see, I have my shoes on now."
"That's a good thing that you are obedient," said John with an approving
glance; and the dog, too, seemed to notice his approval of Barefoot, for
he jumped up at her and licked her free hand.
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