The little girl made an effort, but no words would come. She could never like this girl with the pretty name, she felt very sure.
"No," said Jim. "She's so small for her size that mother would be afraid of her getting lost."
They all giggled but the little girl, who wanted to run away.
"But you like New York, don't you? Jim thinks he wouldn't go back to the country for anything."
We had not come to "Bet your life," and "There's where your head's level," in those days. But Jim answered for his sister—"You just guess I wouldn't," with a deal of gusto.
They all walked up a short distance. The girls and Jim had all the talk, and they chaffed each other merrily. Hanny was silent. She really was too young for their fun.
Belle May's mother called her presently, and the little girl said in a whisper: "Oh, Jim, we must go home."
Jim wondered if he might ask Lily to walk with them, so he could come back with her. But she settled it with a gay toss of the head.
"Good-night," she said. "Come down again some evening."
"What a little stupid you are, Hanny!" Jim began, vexed enough. "Why didn't you ask them to walk up our way! And you never said a word! I could have given you an awful shake!"