Grif threw one quick, sharp glance upon her, and, as if satisfied with what he saw, turned away again, and did not reply.
"Was my husband there, Grif," the girl repeated.
Still the boy did not reply. He appeared to be possessed with some dogged determination not to answer her question.
"Grif," the girl said, in a voice of such tender pleading that the tears came into the boy's eyes, "Grif, be my friend!"
"Your friend, Ally!" he exclaimed, in amazement, and as he spoke a thrill of exquisite pleasure quivered through him. "Me! A pore beggar like me!"
"I have no one else to depend upon--no one else to trust to--no one else to tell me what I must, yet what I dread to hear. Was my husband there, Grif?"
"Yes, he was there," the boy returned, reluctantly; "more shame for him, and you a sittin' here all by yourself. I say, Ally, why don't you cut away from him? What do you stop here for?"
"Hush! Was he speaking with them about the plots you told me of?"
"No, he was very quiet. They was a tryin' to persuade him to join 'em; but he wouldn't agree. They tried all sorts of games on him. They spoke soft, and they spoke hard. They give him lots of lush, too, and you know, Ally, he can--" but Grif pulled himself up short, dismayed and remorseful, for his companion had broken into a passionate fit of weeping.
"I didn't mean to do it, Ally," he said sorrowfully. "Don't take on so. I'll never say it agin. I'm a ignorant beast, that's what I am!" he exclaimed, digging his knuckles into his eyes. "I'm always a puttin' my foot in it."