“Of course, goosie; you didn’t suppose I’d buy an imitation, did you? I guess not. It’s yours to do what you like with. But——”
He stared dubiously into her pretty, flushed face. “Keep it to yourself that I gave it to you, will you?”
“I—won’t tell,” she faltered. “I’ll do jus’ as you say, Mr. Whitcomb.”
“All right. Now you sit down here, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ve got to look around a bit, and put some money on my horse. I’ll buy some candy, too, while I’m gone.”
The girl sat, where he had left her, in a daze of happiness. All about her the seats of the grand stand were filling with people for the afternoon races; but she did not see them, nor the arid stretch of the race-course, around which were circling various experimental trotters under the guidance of hunched men in two-wheeled vehicles. The subdued light of the shaded place brought out new and more vivid flashes of color in the marvellous white stone on her little pink hand—scarlet and green and blue. Jennie twisted it slowly on her finger, her eyes riveted upon its alien splendors.
“To think she didn’t like it!” she whispered to herself.
“Good-afternoon, Miss Jennie,” murmured a carefully modulated voice at her side. She turned with a start to gaze into Mr. Todd’s smiling face.
“Goodness!” exclaimed the girl petulantly. “How you made me jump!”
“You were thinking about that new ring of yours, I suppose,” said Mr. Todd, blinking pleasantly.
“Who told you I had a new ring, I’d like to know?” the girl demanded coldly.