Nan had noticed that this half-wild girl was of beautifully fair complexion herself, and aside from her pop eyes was quite petty. But she was a queer little thing.
“You've been to Chicago, ain't you?” asked Margaret suddenly.
“We came through Chicago on our way up here from my home. We stayed one night there,” Nan replied.
“It's bigger'n Pine Camp, ain't it?”
“My goodness, yes!”
“Bigger'n the Forks?” queried Margaret doubtfully.
“Why, it is much, much bigger,” said Nan, hopeless of making one so densely ignorant understand anything of the proportions of the metropolis of the lakes.
“That's what I told Bob,” Margaret said. “He don't believe it. Bob's my brother, but there never was such a dunce since Adam.”
Nan had to laugh. The strange girl amused her. But Margaret said something, too, that deeply interested the visitor at Pine Camp before she ended her call, making her exit as she had her entrance, by the window.
“I reckon you never seen this house of your uncle's before, did you?” queried Margaret at one point in the conversation.