THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
she had dropped the rude speech of the native, she persisted still in calling him by his backwoods title, "Dad." But the little word had come to hold a new meaning for them both. He saw now, all at once, what he would lose when she went away.
One by one, the petals from the big daisy fell from the girl's hand, dull splashes of gold against her dress and on the grass.
"Where will you go?" he asked at last.
Sammy shook her head without looking up; "Don't know; anywhere that Daddy can earn a livin'—I mean living—for us."
"And when do you start?"
"Pretty soon now; there ain't nothin'—there is nothing to stay for now. Father told me when he went away day before yesterday that we would go as soon as he returned. He promised to be home sometime this evening. I—I couldn't tell you before, Dad, but I guess you knew."
The shepherd did know. For weeks they had both avoided the subject.
Sammy continued; "I—I've just been over to the Matthews place. Uncle Matt has been gone three days now. I guess you know about that, too. Aunt Mollie told me all about it. Oh, I wish, I wish I could help them." She reached for another daisy and two big tears rolled from under the long lashes to fall with the golden petals. "We'll come back in
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