“Poor little girl,” Rock repeated. “First get me a fine needle and I’ll see about that splinter. I will try not to hurt you.”
Cassy was very brave and stood quite still while Rock probed for the splinter which had gone in quite deep, but at last he triumphantly produced it sticking on the end of the needle, and after tying up her cut thumb, he tipped back her chin and looked into her eyes in which the tears were standing. She smiled and tried to wink away the drops.
“You were a real soldier,” Rock told her, “and I know it hurt like everything when I had to dig down after that splinter. Now for the fire. What’s wrong? Why, you haven’t opened any of the drafts. See, you must pull out this one, and open this thing in front; that will make a blaze. Now, there she goes. What are you going to cook?”
Cassy looked down a little abashed.
“I wasn’t going to cook anything. I was just going to warm up this stew and the corn-bread. You see mother didn’t expect to be gone so long and she didn’t know we wouldn’t have anything else for dinner.” She made her little excuses haltingly.
Rock was silent for a moment. It seemed like such a poor little dinner to the boy accustomed to a lavish table.
“I wish you would invite me to dinner,” at last he said very gravely.
Cassy cast a startled look at the remnant of stew. There would be enough corn-bread, but she knew Jerry’s appetite, and if Rock’s were anything like it, some one would have to go hungry from the table. But she said shyly, “Won’t you stay and take dinner with us? Jerry will be glad to have you.”
“And how about Cassy?”
The child cast another glance at the little supply of food and Rock smiled.