"Er—would you mind telling me your name?"
She looked at him and laughed friendly.
"You must have swallowed a catechism, Mr. Nichols. But everybody in Black Rock knows everybody else—more'n they want to, I guess. There's no reason I shouldn't tell you. I don't mind your knowin'. My name is Beth Cameron."
"Beth——?"
"Yes, Bess—the minister had a lisp."
Peter didn't lack a sense of humor.
"Funny, isn't it?" she queried with a smile as he laughed, "bein' tied up for life to a name like that just because the parson couldn't talk straight."
"Beth," he repeated, "but I like it. It's like you. I hope you'll let me come to see you when I get settled."
"H-m," she said quizzically. "You don't believe in wastin' your time, do you?" And then, after a brief pause, "You know they call us Pineys back here in the barrens, but just the same we think a lot of ourselves and we're a little offish with city folks. You can't be too particular nowadays about the kind of people you go with."
Peter stared at her and grinned, his sense of the situation more keenly touched than she could be aware of.