"Oh, yes, I remember—of course."
"Won't you give him a message for me?"
"Certainly, if I see him. What can I tell him for you?"
"Tell him—tell him——" and hesitating painfully, with a world of trouble in her marvellous eyes, the child looked up at me earnestly. The colour had faded from her face, all its lines were exquisitely softened, and as she smiled apologetically her lips just trembled. "Tell him you seen me—and—and—tell him I told yer to say so. Will you?—please. He said he'd write."
"I'll tell him, Squito. Anything else?"
"No—he knows," she murmured almost inaudibly, turning her crimson face aside.
"Good-bye, then."
"Good-bye," and she moved away rapidly.
But as we drove off, we saw the little figure in its broad leaf hat, on the hillock behind the house, watching us. And as long as we were in sight it remained there.