The man nodded approvingly. “Well, you ain’t so stocky as some,” he said thoughtfully. “Guess your ma kind of likes to dress you up, don’t she, sonny?” he continued, with an amused glance at Berry’s red silk tie and scarlet wool cap.
Berry nodded. If this stranger mistook her for a boy she did not mean to undeceive him.
“Well,” continued the man, “you can’t help that, my lad. What’s your name?”
“Berry,” responded the little girl.
“Berry what?” he continued.
“Berenice,” said Berry, thinking that now the stranger had discovered her secret, and that he would at once tell her that the place for little girls was at home, helping their mother, as Mr. Bragg so often announced.
But the man evidently had not understood her. “‘Nees,’ eh! Berry Nees. Well, you mountain folks have queer names. But I’m glad to make your acquaintance. I reckon you can run considerable as well as jump?”
“Yes,” Berry replied quickly, well pleased that she need not hear that “Girls should not be running wild in boys’ clothes,” as had sometimes been said to her. “I can run faster than Len Bragg, who is sixteen years old.”
“Where does Len Bragg live?” questioned the man.
“Oh! He’s in the war! He’s with General Johnston’s army,” replied Berry promptly.