“Thank you for coming, Soapy,” interrupted Ruth. “It was very good of you.”
“Soapy” lingered at the door, fumbling his dilapidated hat. Mrs. Spofford was staring speechlessly at her niece.
“I'd a little sooner you wouldn't say anything to A. A. about me peaching on him,” said “Soapy,” somewhat nervously.
“I shall not 'peach' on you, Soapy,” said the girl, a joyous smile suddenly illuminating her face.
“Soapy” went out. As he closed the door, he said to himself: “Next time you tell me to go to hell, Abe Landover, I guess you'd better furnish a guide that knows the way.”
As soon as the door was closed, Mrs. Spofford turned upon her radiant niece.
“You are not such a fool as to believe that rascal's story, Ruth?”
“I believe every word of it!” cried the girl.