“Why—I don’t know—I’ve known you for a very little while, if you please.” She gathered up her belongings. “But we’re friends?”
“No! No!” said Jeff vehemently. “You won’t sing it to any one else—Ellinor?”
She drew a line in the dust.
“If you won’t cross that line,” she said, “I’ll tell you.”
Mr. Bransford grasped a sapling with a firm clutch and shook it to try its strength.
“A bird in the bush is the noblest work of God,” he announced. “I’ll take a chance.”
Her eyes were shining.
“You’ve promised!” she said. She paused: when she spoke again her voice was low and a trifle unsteady. “I won’t sing about Sandy to—any one else—Jeff!”
Then she fled.