“Who’s with you, Baby? I’ll skin ’em if they’re doin’ you mean.”
“No one’s with me. I’m all alone. I’m going to Boston alone.”
“Sent? Or sent for?” inquired the other, still unsatisfied.
“Sent,” returned Rosalie with a seraphic smile.
“By those folks you were scared of?” asked Miss Hickey, with sudden inspiration.
“No, the other people. Do you remember the deaf gentleman with gray hair?”
“No, I don’t, Blue-eyes.” Miss Hickey spoke sharply. “The grayer they are, the worse they are. That’s my experience.”
“Oh, he’s so good!” exclaimed Rosalie, “and he is a friend of my father’s, and he wants to help me.”
“Well, I hope he does. How’s that grand young feller, Mr. Bruce. Seen him lately?”