"But Golden——" she began.
"Goldenhair?" He smiled again, by way of entreaty. "Why, Goldenhair is—you."
She clapped on her bonnet in a little flurry, pulling it down to hide the last yellow wisp.
Misunderstanding the action, he began to plead. "Oh, don't go; please don't go! I've wanted to meet you for months and months. I've heard so much about you—Lounsbury's told me."
She gave him a quick look from under the bonnet's rim. "Mr. Lounsbury," she repeated, and stiffened her lips.
"Yes."
"He don't know much about me, I reckon. He ain't been to see us for 'months and months.'" She began to dig at the ground with the toe of a shoe.
"Well—well——" he floundered, "he's been awful rushed, lately—needed at Clark's—there now. I promised to—to tend to his business here for him. But he told me about you, just the same, and about your sister, too. Say, but she is a brick!"
She gave him another look, slightly resentful, but inquiring. "What's a 'brick'?" she demanded.
"It's a person that's all grit," he answered earnestly.