“You wished to see me, I believe,” said Jarvis, perceiving that the girl was struggling with involuntary fear of him, a fear heightened by her surroundings. “What can I do for you?”
She met his gaze unflinchingly.
“I have come,” she said, “to see if you will give me a little more time. It is going to be a good apple year, and—and I’ll work—hard to save the farm.”
Her eyes darkened and widened; a quick color sprang to lips and cheeks, as when a flag is suddenly unfurled to the wind.
“If you’ll only give me a chance!” she cried.
“What sort of a chance are you looking for?” he wanted to know.
Barbara’s eyes fell before his steady gaze.
“I—want——” she began, and stopped, obviously searching for forgotten words and phrases.
He waited imperturbably for her to go on.