“Don’t send her out,” Hildegarde pleaded. “My dog’s out there now. Poor Ky.” She was conscious that her kindness for the maimed beast pleased the owner.
“Have you ever cared about a dog?” he said.
“Well, if I haven’t, I know some one who has, and that’s Red’s master. Why do you ask me?”
“Because I find myself with all my wealth wanting two things at the last.”
“What things?”
“A little fire that I haven’t strength to make, and a friend for Ky.”
“I’ll help you about the fire.” She reached out and picked up the fallen pieces of wood.
While she was opening her knife, “I believe,” he said, “yes, I believe you would help me about Ky—if you knew.”
“Help you, how?”
He fastened his eyes on the girl’s face. “Ky is one of us,” he said very low.