"What am I doing here, Joe?" she said.
Joe grinned, waggishly. "Nothin'; only beatin' every man on the street at his own game, and makin' so much money that—"
But she stopped him there. "I guess I'll do my own explaining." She turned to Ben again. "And what are you doing here in Chicago?"
Ben passed a faltering hand across his chin. "Me? Well, I'm—we're livin' here, I s'pose. Livin' here."
She glanced at him, sharply. "Left the farm, Ben?"
"Yes."
"Wait a minute." She concluded her business with Joe; finished it briskly and to her own satisfaction. With her bright brown eyes and her alert manner and her quick little movements she made you think of a wren—a business-like little wren—a very early wren that is highly versed in the worm-catching way.
At her next utterance he was startled but game. "Have you had your lunch?"
"Why, no; I—"
"I've been down here since seven, and I'm starved. Let's go and have a bite at the little Greek restaurant around the corner. A cup of coffee and a sandwich, anyway."