Page 205 - A Little Bush Maid

Dick laughed.

"No use trying to come between those two," he said.

"Not a bit," said the Hermit with great cheerfulness. He smiled at Norah.
"You brought me back to life-twice."

"When I think—but for Norah," Mrs. Stephenson murmured brokenly, "no
one would have known you were dying in that dreadful tent."

"Yes," said the Hermit, "but I didn't know anything about it. My best
memory is of my little friend who brought me good news when I was

wishing with all my soul that I'd died in the tent!"

"Don't, Jim!" said Mr. Linton.

"Well, between one and another there's a fair chance of spoiling my pupil,"

laughed Dick, stretching himself. "I'll have to be doubly stern to counteract
the evil influences, Norah. You can prepare for awful times. When next

Monday comes, Mr. Linton-may it be soon!—you can say good-bye to your
pickle of a daughter. She will come out from my mill ground into the most
approved type of young lady-accomplishments, prunes and prisms

personified!"

Mr. Linton laughed.

"Will she?" he said, pulling Norah's hair gently. "I wonder! Well, you can

do your worst, Dick. Somehow, I fancy that under all the varnish I'll find
my little bush maid."

The End