“He brought you wood alcohol?”
“No, he asked for lard stick and brought me a strip of bacon.”
“And after that,” smiled her father, “she took him as a pupil and taught him English.”
“Did he pay her?”
“I’m afraid not. She loves him too much.” Jean tossed her head.
“I’ll say the Little Pine owes me thirty dollars.”
“How old is he?”
“Almost fifteen. Some day or other he is going to be a doctor, and when he has grown very rich, I shall send him a bill for those lessons.”
With that remark, of which she did not mean one single word, she whisked away the dishes and presently returned with a shortcake.
Marvin watched her cut it. Very slowly her sharp knife descended through the fruit and crust, and each wedge came away without spilling one drop of its pure red.