“If fathers are really nice,” she sighed wistfully, “p’raps I ought to have a father for my little girl. When we’re both growed up, I might ask you. Would you be her father, per—perhaps?”
Stretched at her side, he glanced up to see the mischief creep about the edges of her mouth. But her face was no longer elfin; it was earnest and troubled with things beyond her knowledge. When she looked like that she seemed older than twelve—almost the same age as himself; there were so many things that he, too, could not understand. He reflected that they both were very like Bones with their easily damped enthusiasm. A wave of pity swept through him; she was so slight, so dainty, so unprotected. He forgot his pigeons; he forgot everything that had happened before meeting her. He felt that of all things in the world, were he given the choice, he would ask that she might be his sister. Stooping his head, he kissed the white petal of a hand where it lay unfolded in the grass.
She looked down at him quietly. “My darling mother would say, ’You mustn’t let boys do that.’ But I expect she would let you do it. Do you—do you think I’m an odd child? Every one says I am.”
He laughed with a thrill of excitement; she made him feel so much younger than his yesterday self. “I couldn’t tell you, Princess. I’ve never known any girls. But you’re beautiful, and you’re dear, and you’re——”
“Let’s be tremenjous friends,” she whispered.
Through the long summer days that followed they lived in a world of self-created magic—a world which, because they had made it, belonged wholly to themselves. Its chief delight was that they alone could see it. No one else knew that the brook was a girl and that the mountain-ash that grew beside it was her lover. The boy turned back from his dreams of manhood to meet the childhood of the little girl; it was one last glorious flash of innocence before the curtain fell But in the presence of Farmer Joseph and Sarie, and of Hal when he came to visit them, he was shy of his friendship with Desire.
“You’re ashamed of me because I’m a girl and little,” she said. “But I know more than you do about—oh, lots of things!”
She did. She knew that gentlemen when they were in love with ladies, gave their ladies flowers. She knew much about lovers’ secret ways. When asked how she knew, she shook her curls and looked exceedingly wise. She could be impishly coquettish when she liked. There were times when she refused to let Teddy touch her because she would become ordinary to him, if it were always allowed. And there were times when she would creep into his breast like a little tired bird, and let him tell her stories by the hour. She tried to tantalize him into jealousy; Bones was usually the rival for her affections. When she did that, she only amused him, making him remember that he was older than herself. But when he made her feel that he was older, she would stamp her feet with rage. “You’ll be sorry when I wear long frocks,” she would threaten. “I shall pretend to despise you. I shall walk past you with my head held high.”
When she showed him how she would do it, creating the picture by puckering her nose and mincing her steps, she would only increase his merriment Then suddenly her wounded vanity would break and she would fly at him with all her puny strength. “You shan’t laugh at me. You shan’t I can’t bear it Oh, please say you forgive me and like me.”
In the lumber-room, which was across the passage from where she slept, they spent most of their rainy days. It was dirty and it was dusty, but it had something which compensated for dust and dirt—a box full of old-fashioned clothes and largely flowered muslins. Nothing pleased her better than to dress herself up and perform, while he played audience. She would go through passionate scenes, making up a tune and singing words. At the end of them she would explain, “My mamma does that.” And then: “Oh, I wish she would come. When I ask him, he always says, ’Presently. Presently.’ Can’t you take me to her, Teddy?”