The mother noted the unusual expectancy manifested by the children during
the day, and on inquiring the reason was promptly informed that Mary had
promised to tell them a story, or legend, and "had got to do it."
"Why has she _got_ to do it?" said the loving mother, struck with the
emphasis which they had placed on the word.
The little mischiefs were cunning enough to see that they had nearly run
themselves into trouble, and were wisely silent. Mary also noticed this,
and at once her great loyalty to the little folk manifested itself, and
quickly turning to her mistress she said, with an emphasis which was quite
unusual:
"Mary has promised them a story, and as she always keeps her word she has
_got_ to tell it."
Saying this she quickly sprang from the floor, where she had been sitting,
and taking a child by each hand she marched with them out of the room.
"Hurrah for you, Mary! you saved us that time," said little Sagastao.
Mary would not have been sorry if in some way the parents received an
inkling of what was in the minds of the children, yet she had such peculiar
ideas that she would never herself be the one to convey that information.
During the brief summer months the pleasantest walks were along the shores
of the lake. Many were the cosy little cave-like retreats where Mary often
led the children. There, with the sunlit waters before them, and the
rippling waves making music at their feet, the old nurse crooned out many
an Indian legend or exciting story about the red men of the past.
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