"Here, take this," he said. But the girl looked at the variegated square suspiciously.
"No, thank you. I'm afraid it's not san—sanitary."
"It ain't—what?" the boy queried.
"I mean it's not clean."
"Sure it's clean," he returned indignantly. "You're mighty particular, seems to me." Struck by a sudden thought he took the remains of his lunch from his pocket and opened it, exposing four sadly crushed doughnuts. "I don't s'pose you'd eat these, would you? Maybe they ain't sanitary enough."
But the girl who had had nothing to eat since morning, eyed the delicacies longingly.
"I—I'll take one, thank you."
"Eat the bunch," said the boy generously. "I've had all I want. Sit down and rest. There's no rush."
The girl sat down, munching the crushed doughnuts with keen enjoyment, while the boy stretched on the grass, his head pillowed in his locked hands watched her curiously. Looking up she met his gaze.
"They're awfully good," she said. "Did your mother make them?"