"Didn't it make you ill?"
"Yes—fearfully; but I hid till I was all right again."
He smoked a cigarette, and Estelle told him that his father was a great smoker and very fond of a pipe.
"But he wouldn't let you smoke, except now and again in holiday times—not yet. Nobody ought to smoke till he's done growing."
"What about you, then?" asked Abel.
"I've done growing ages ago. I'm nearly twenty-eight."
He looked at her and his eyes clouded. He entered a phase of reserve.
Then she, guessing how to enchant him, suggested the next step.
"If you help me pack up now, we'll harness the pony and go down to West Haven for a bit. I want to see the old stores I've heard such a lot about. You must show them to me."
"Yes—part. I know every inch of them, but I can't show you my own secret den, though."
"Do. I should love to see it."