"Of course you know him better than I do," Ann said wistfully. "Don't you like my father, Ben?"
Ben moved restlessly. "He's a Penniman an' awful set in his ways—Coats Penniman's a fearful steady, determined man—though that's not sayin' anything against him."
"Aunt Sue says he is the best man who ever walked," Ann said earnestly.
"She's reason to think that way.... I reckon I don't like too much goodness, Ann—not the kind that's unhuman good. That's because I'm jest 'Bear' Brokaw, though.... No, I'm goin'."
Ann could not puzzle out just what he meant. She let it drop, for thinking of it made her unhappy. She moved nearer and put her hand on Ben's great hairy paw, stroking it as she would have stroked the collie. "You stay, Ben?" she pleaded softly. "Just stay a while and see how it will be. Stay 'cause I want you to. What'll I do without you to talk to—if my father doesn't care about me?... An' maybe he won't, you know—I can't tell.... You think he will, though, don't you, Ben?" It was the anxiety uppermost in Ann and must out.
Ben's little animal eyes were very bright as he looked down at her, and, whatever his thoughts, his expression was not unkindly.
"You reckon if you smiled at the spring the water would run up hill to you?" he asked. "You sure could bring the birds down from the trees, Ann." This was certainly one way of avoiding her question.
Ann knew Bear Brokaw as well as he knew her. She knew she had won. "And we'll make the swimmin'-pool down in the woods—soon as it's warm," she coaxed. "We'll have fun this spring, Ben." This was a project that lay close to Ben's heart. His room might be redolent of animal skins, but Ben himself was not; he had a beaver's love for the water.
"Um!" he growled, his eyes twinkling.
It was complete surrender, and Ann sprang up. "I've got to help Aunt Sue now," she announced brightly. "And, Ben, I didn't put the horse out."