Ruth sat still. Her palms were folded, one upon another, over the book on her knees.
"But what is it?" he pleaded.
"It means," she said quietly, "a child whose father and mother are not married—not properly married."
A pause followed—a long pause—and the tumbling cascade sounded louder and louder in Ruth's ears, while Dicky considered.
"Do you think," he asked at length "that papa was not properly married to my mother?"
"No, dear—no. And even if that were so, what difference could it make to my loving you?"
"It wouldn't make any! Sure?"
"Sure."
"But it might make a difference to papa," he persisted, "if ever papa had another child—like Abraham, you know—" Here he jumped to his feet, for she had risen of a sudden. "Why, what is the matter?"
She held out a hand. There were many dragon-flies by the fall, and for the moment he guessed that one of them had stung her.