Read The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound for Free Online

chance to ask visitors back. “We’d love to,” she said firmly, answering for all of them. That settled that.
    Becky drove them to her farm. Some of the fences were in disrepair. Chickens ran to and fro in the yard, pecking at the muck between the cobblestones. “Oh, no,” Becky moaned. “The hens got out again.”
    It looked half abandoned for a working farm. “Isn’t anyone else here?” Lizzie asked.
    â€œThere’s only me now that Pa’s gone,” Becky said.
    â€œYou take care of a whole farm by yourself?” Lizzie asked incredulously. “You must be exhausted!”
    Becky shooed the chickens back into their enclosure as Nora and Erin ran around helping as best they could. Lizzie made sure the captive hens didn’t get out again.
    Once they were all caught, Becky pushed the loose panel back into place with her elbow. “Right,” she said, dusting off her hands. “Let’s get that milk.”
    In the welcome shade of the cowshed, Lizzie watched in fascination as Becky’s strong, scarred hands milked Tilly into a tin bucket.
    â€œHaven’t you ever seen a cow milked before?” Becky teased.
    Lizzie laughed. “I’m a city girl!” she said. “There were no cows in Rat’s Castle.”
    Jets of milk squirted into the bucket, making a rattling sound. It looked delicious. Once there was plenty to go around, Becky passed them all cups. Lizzie felt a bit odd drinking something that had been inside an animal moments before, especially as it was still warm, but she soon found herself gulping it down greedily.
    â€œYou’re really good at that milking,” she told Becky. “I wouldn’t know which end to start with.”
    â€œMy pa taught me everything I know,” Becky said, sighing sadly. “I miss him so much.”
    â€œYou must, you poor thing.” Lizzie hardly knew what to do. What could she possibly say to a girl whose father had only passed away two days before? Becky couldn’t even be used to it yet.
    Becky wiped her eyes. “I do stupid things. Last night I laid the table for two, just like I used to. I wasn’t even thinking. And this morning, just after the rooster crowed, I lay in bed and wondered why Pa wasn’t shouting at me to get up. I forgot he was dead. How can that happen?”
    â€œWell, I think he’d be proud of you, running the farm all by yourself like this,” Lizzie said. Erin and Nora nodded, milk mustaches on both of their upper lips.
    Becky shrugged. “What else can I do? The animals need me. My father didn’t keep this place running just for me to let it go to waste, did he?”
    â€œBut it must be so hard!” Nora said.
    â€œThere’s no sense in feeling sorry for myself,” Becky said, though tears were rolling down her cheeks. “That won’t get the milk to market, will it? You needn’t feel sorry for me, neither. I deserve . . . I deserve this.”
    Lizzie grabbed Becky’s shoulders and gave her a hug. “That’s a load of nonsense!”
    â€œIt’s not,” Becky said, crying into Lizzie’s sleeve. “You don’t understand. Pa caught the smallpox from me. He’d never have been ill if it wasn’t for me.”
    â€œThat’s not your fault!” Lizzie protested.
    â€œBut I got better . . . and he . . . he died!” Becky wailed.
    Lizzie held the girl tightly as she wept. Nobody else had done this for her, that much was obvious. Nora and Erin looked on with sympathetic faces.
    â€œI just wish I could speak to him again!” Becky said. She pulled back, wiping away tears.
    Nora suddenly leaned in. “If you could speak to him, what would you say?” she asked.
    A little startled, Becky thought for a moment. “I’d ask him to forgive me. For the smallpox. And I’d tell him I love him. But I’ll never get to speak to him again, will