“Oh, Miss Bess”—and Fred’s voice broke.
“What is it, dear?” asked Bess again.
“Nothing—only—I couldn’t see the boys to-night—and—and”—
Bess sat down on the edge of the bed, and took the child’s hand in hers.
“Is that the reason you ran away?”
“Yes.”
“But, Fred, the boys came to see you.”
“I know, Miss Bess, but when I heard them, I just couldn’t stand it. They are all so different from me, and I can’t do anything at all, and—and I didn’t want them round. They didn’t care.”
“They did care, Fred; and I cared very, very much. It worries me to have you hide when any one comes here. And I had asked the boys, you know.”
“I know it; but, Miss Bess, you don’t know how hard it is! That night at church I just felt as if they were all looking at me, and would talk about me as soon as I went home. It’s the not knowing that’s the worst. And when I hear the boys, it seems as if I couldn’t always be different from them.”
