"You been huntin' me up—jest to help me?" gasped Inez, in wonder.
"Of course we have," said Bess.
"Hi!" exclaimed the flower-seller, with an impish grin. "I reckon me aunt would say some of yer buttons was missin'. Youse can't be right in the upper story," and she pointed to her own head to illustrate her meaning.
"Goodness!" gasped Grace. "Does she think we are crazy because we want to do her a kindness?"
"She's not used to being treated with much consideration, I am afraid,"
Nan observed, in a low voice.
"You ridiculous child!" came from Bess. "Don't you know that we were both interested in you that first day? We told you we would see you again."
"Aw, that don't mean nothin'," sniffed Inez. "I didn't expect nothin' would come of it. If youse folks from Washington Park ain't crazy, what is the matter wit' youse? I ain't nothin' ter you."
"Why, goodness me!" cried Grace again. "Do you think everybody who is kind must be out of his head? Who ever heard the like?"
"Folks ain't generally crazy to do me no favors," said Inez, with one of her sharp glances. "But if you girls want ter give me somethin' for nothin,' you've lost some of yer buttons, that's sure!"
Nan and her two companions had to laugh at this, but the laughter was close to tears, after all. It was really pathetic that this waif of the streets should suspect the sanity of anybody who desired to do her a kindness.