I don’t steal.”

“Well, it’s wicked, and God don’t like little girls who 18 do such things; and if you don’t stop it you will be punished terribly some time.”

“Oh, I don’t care. I can’t get a worse beating than I get almost every day, no matter where I go.”

They had now reached the city limit.

“Which way?” called out the driver.

“I will get out here, if you please,” said Zula, in answer to the question.

“Where do you live?” Scott asked.

“Please, I don’t want you to know,” she answered, looking at him and scanning closely every feature. “I can’t tell you how much I thank you. I shall never see you again, but if I should, and you wanted me to die for you, I would. Zula will never forget you—will always remember you both.”

She caught a hand of each, and kissing them fervently, dropped from the carriage steps with the agility of a young fawn. She stopped for a moment as she touched the ground with her bare, brown feet, moved her hand in a graceful way above her head, and with repeated good byes to each, tripped lightly over the soft grass away from the city.