"Where is Lizard Point—exactly?" I asked, my voice more serious than it had been during our talk.
She pointed her finger down the creek, as it flowed gently murmuring to the south.
"Th' crick 'll lead yo'. Nigh onto half mile frum here."
"I'm coming to see you and your granny some day soon. May I? You know it's lonesome for me out here. I'm not used to it. May I come?"
She gazed at me with steady gray eyes for a few moments.
"Ye-e-es; I s'pose so," she answered, reluctantly; "if yo' git lonesome.... Whut yo' keer'n' that jar fur?"
Her glance had just espied it, and now it was my turn to blush.
"I'll tell you—when I see you again," I compromised, laughing.
She started off, but stopped and turned.
"Live on Baldy, yo' say?"