"It's just the little end of nothin'. That's all," she finished decisively.
The quaint expression interested him. "I must get there, nevertheless," he said; "is it far from here?"
"Depends on what you call far. Mile or so. Didn't the 'Lizzie' meet the six-thirty?"
Peter stared at her vacuously, for this was Greek.
"The 'Lizzie'?"
"The tin 'Lizzie'—Jim Hagerman's bus—carries the mail and papers. Sometimes he gives me a lift about here."
"No. There was no conveyance of any sort and I really expected one. I wish to get to Mr. Jonathan K. McGuire's."
"Oh!"
The girl had been examining Peter furtively, as though trying vainly to place him definitely in her mental collection of human bipeds. Now she stared at him with interest.
"Oh, you're goin' to McGuire's!"