"Ye thinks ye knows a pile about women, Bird Pigeon. But the kind ye
knows about ain't the kind Rosy-Lilly's agoin' to be!"
Nearly a week went by before Rosy-Lilly saw another chance to assail
McWha's forbidding defences. This time she made what her innocent
heart conceived to be a tremendous bid for the bad-tempered woodsman's
favour. Incidentally, too, she revealed a secret which the Boss and
Walley Johnson had been guarding with guilty solicitude ever since her
coming to the camp.
It chanced that the Boss and Johnson together were kept away from camp
one night till next morning, laying out a new "landing" over on Fork's
Brook. When it came time for Rosy-Lilly to be put to bed, the honour
fell, as a matter of course, to Jimmy Brackett. Rosy-Lilly went with
him willingly enough, but not till after a moment of hesitation, in
which her eyes wandered involuntarily to the broad, red face of McWha
behind its cloud of smoke.
As a nursemaid, Jimmy Brackett flattered himself that he was a
success--till the moment came when Rosy-Lilly was to be tucked into
her bunk. Then she stood and eyed him with solemn question.
"What's wrong, me honey-bug?" asked Brackett, anxiously.
"You hain't heard me my prayers!" replied Rosy-Lilly, with a touch of
severity in her voice.
"Eh? What's that?" stammered Brackett, startled quite out of his
wonted composure.
"Don't you know little girls has to say their prayers afore they goes
to bed?" she demanded.
"No!" admitted Brackett, truthfully, wondering how he was going to get
out of the unexpected situation.
"Walley Johnson hears me mine!" continued the child, her eyes very
wide open as she weighed Brackett's qualifications in her merciless
little balance.
Here, Brackett was misguided enough to grin, bethinking him that now
he "had the laugh" on the Boss and Walley. That grin settled it.
"I dess you don't know how to hear me say 'em, Jimmy!" she announced
inexorably. And picking up the skirt of her blue homespun "nightie,"
so that she showed her little red woollen socks and white deer-hide
moccasins, she tripped forth into the big, noisy room.
At the bright picture she made, her flax-gold hair tied in a knob on
top of her head that it might not get tangled, the room fell silent
instantly, and every eye was turned upon her. Nothing abashed by the
scrutiny, she made her way sedately down the room and across to
McWha's bench. Unable to ignore her, and angry at the consciousness
that he was embarrassed, McWha eyed her with a grim stare. But
Rosy-Lilly put out her hands to him confidingly.
"I'm goin' to let you hear me my prayers," she said, her clear, baby
voice carrying every syllable to the furthest corner of the room.
An ugly light flamed into McWha's eyes, and he sprang to his feet,
brushing the child rudely aside.
"That's some o' Jimmy Brackett's work!" he shouted. "It's him put 'er
up to it, curse him!"
The whole room burst into a roar of laughter at the sight of his
wrath. Snatching his cap from its peg, he strode furiously out to the
stable, slamming the door behind him.
In their delight over McWha's discomfiture the woodsmen quite forgot
the feelings of Rosy-Lilly. For a second or two she stood motionless,
her lips and eyes wide open with amazement. Then, hurt as much by the
laughter of the room as by McWha's rebuff, she burst into tears, and
stood hiding her face with both hands, the picture of desolation.
When the men realized that she thought they were laughing at her, they
shut their mouths with amazing promptitude, and crowded about her. One
after another picked her up, striving to console her with caresses and
extravagant promises. She would not uncover her eyes, however, for any
one, and her heart-broken wailing was not hushed till Brackett thrust
his way through the crowd, growling inarticulate blasphemies at them
all, and bore her back to her room. When he emerged twenty minutes
later no one asked him about Rosy-Lilly's prayers. As for Rosy-Lilly,
her feelings were this time so outraged that she would no longer look
at McWha.