"There," said Jeffrey. He folded the handkerchief and returned it to its bag. "Now you're a nice dry child. I suppose you've got your shoes full of dirt. Mine are when I've been out here."
"Never mind my shoes," said she. "Jeff, how nice you are. How much you are to-day like what you used to be when you were a boy."
"I feel rather like it nowadays," said Jeff, "I don't know why. Except that I come out here and play by myself and they all let me alone."
"But you mustn't play tricks," said Miss Amabel. "You must be good and not play tricks on other people."
Jeff drew up his knees and clasped his hands about them. His eyes were on the corn shimmering in the heat.
"What's in your bonnet, dear?" said he. "I hear a buzz."
"What happened the other night?" she asked. "It came to my ears, I won't say how."
"Weedie told you. Weedie always told."
"I don't say it was Mr. Weedon Moore."
She was speaking with dignity, and Jeffrey laughed and unclasped his hands to pat her on the arm.