The girl spoke very quietly. "We are—if you want to put it like that," she replied.
There was a note in Anne's voice that was unmistakably cold, and Cherry reproached herself at once.
"Really, Anne," she said, and she turned her eyes away as she spoke; "I didn't mean to be personal. Please forgive me."
"That's nothin'!" replied Anne quickly. "Fact is—when I came to the settlement I wanted nothin' better than to be left alone. When I hired with MacMurray he asked me my name an' I told him 'Anne'. If he'd asked what else—I'd 'a' lied to him. But he didn't. An' no one else ever asked till just now. I could lie about it—but I'm not goin' to. When I tell you—I'll tell you straight. Better leave it at that."
Though Anne's voice was cold and without feeling, Cherry knew that at heart the girl was tender, even affectionate. When Anne got up from where she had been sitting and went to the window where she stood looking out into the night, Cherry set aside her sewing and followed her. For a moment she stood behind Anne, neither of them speaking a word.
At last Cherry put her arms about her and held her in a warm, impulsive embrace.
"Anne," she said, "let's be friends. I'm alone—and so are you. But you're older than I am, and I want you to like me."
Anne turned to her and looked at her very steadily for a long time before she spoke.
"Ain't you like the rest of them?" she asked.
Cherry did not understand the question.