"But you will be when the gas is lit, and we are in the house, and you out there in the dark."
"No, I won't."
"Why do you wish to stay out there?" Mrs. Platts asked.
"'Cause I ain't fit to stay in the house; I'm too--too bad looking."
"What shall we do with her? I hate to turn her out again, but I suppose we will be compelled to."
"Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these ye did it unto me,"
said Mr. Platts, in a low voice. "Let her stay until morning at all events."
"Why, to be sure she can sleep in the little bedroom off the kitchen, and I can go upstairs for to-night," said Mary. "I think she will be all right if she has a bath, and she can wear some of my clothes, if they are too large."
Mary's heart was touched at the sight of Zula's tears, but the keenest pity filled her heart when she saw the purple marks made by the lash across the tapering shoulders.
"Why, child," she said, "what is this?"
"How came these long black marks on you shoulders?"
"Won't you never tell if I'll tell you?"
"No."
"Sure? 'Cause if they'd find me they'd kill me."
"Oh, dear, who would kill you?"
"Why, Crisp."
"And who is Crisp?"
"Why, he's my brother," Zula said, lowering her voice to a soft whisper, "and if he finds me he'll kill me."
"Crisp," Mary repeated. "What a funny name. But I thought you said you had no home."
"Well, I hain't got any, my mam she lets Crisp whip me and they kept me two days and all night without anything to eat and they tied me down to the ground, and I couldn't hardly get up and then I was so lame, and when I got here that nasty boy run against me and hurt me, and it just seems as though I was made to hurt."
"Poor little girl; it's too bad. What is your name?"
"I hain't got any name but Zula."
"Zula? Well, I am sure that is a pretty name; but goodness! What a lovely head of hair for such a little mite as you. I wish I had it."
"I wish I didn't have it, for Crisp pulls it so hard that it seems to me I can't stand it."
"The wretch," said Mary, energetically.
"I'll never go and live with Crisp again if I can find any other place; would you, lady?"
"No," Mary answered, thinking how odd and gypsy-like the expression sounded.
In the morning, Mary, after much persuasion, obtained Zula's consent to let Mrs. Platts know her story.
"She must have a home somewhere," she said, "but for the present let her remain with us."
So it was decided that Zula should stay. A seamstress was hired and a neat outfit of clothing made for Zula, who when she was dressed and her luxuriant hair braided and tied with bright ribbons, the change was so great that Mrs. Platts remarked that she really thought she was pretty, but when she first came she thought she was as black as a gypsy.
"Have you never been to school?"
"No--no, sir; we don't go to school."
"Did you not know it was wrong to steal?"
"No, sir; nobody ever told me it was wrong--nobody but one lady, and she was--oh, so sweet."
"What was her name?"
"Her name; why it was June. I'll never forget her face; I can see it now, and his, too."
"His; whose?"
"I don't know his name, but he was so kind to me."
CHAPTER V.
ZULA'S FRIEND.
Neither Mr. Platts nor his wife had the remotest idea of giving Zula a permanent home, but there seemed nothing else to do but to let her remain, and as the days wore on, she seemed to be almost necessary to their household. She was ready to help in numerous ways and never expressed the least dissatisfaction when called upon to perform any duty, and to Mary's comfort she seemed quite indispensable. Mr. Platts had remarked to his wife that it seemed a pity that Zula was growing up without at least a common education, and so after talking the matter over they decided to send her to school. She possessed a very strange nature; a strong will and a somewhat passionate temper, that had been tortured beyond the limits of saintly endurance; and though she was deeply affectionate, she was as strong to hate. The treatment which she had received had served to augment the fire of an already hasty temperament, and, never having received a kind word, it is not surprising that she hardly knew what love meant until she became an inmate of Mr. Platts' home. As she looked each day on the still handsome faces of her kind friends, she thought that, were it asked of her, she could give her life for their happiness. She was delighted when the plan of sending her to school was made known to her for, to use her own expression, "she could be like other girls," and she really longed to know what school life was. She could forget neither a favor nor an injury, and it was not surprising that the children with whom she came in contact should often say that she was "a spunky little thing."
"Don't you think," said one of her schoolmates to another, "that Zula is a mean little thing?"
"Oh, I don't know," answered the other. "What makes you think so?"
"Because she said the other day that she would slap my face."
"What made her say that?"
"Why, just because I called her a little gypsy. I don't care, now she does look just like one, doesn't she?"
"Why, she has got black hair and black eyes, but lots of people have black hair and eyes who are not gypsies. I don't believe gypsies ever have such beautiful shaped hands and fingers as she has."
"But she has a black face, too."
"Oh, no, her face isn't black; it's dark and so is your sister Cora's."