“Do you mind if I hear a few troubles, Gail?” she requested.
“Help yourself,” was the laughing reply. “I think there’s enough to go around.”
“I’ll begin at the other end,” decided Arly. “Put up your hands, kiddies,” and they went up slowly. She conscientiously picked the dirtiest one, but the boy who owned it came forward with a reluctance which was almost sullen.
“I druther tell Miss Gail,” he frankly informed her.
“Of course,” Arly immediately agreed, smiling down into his eyes with more charm than she had seen fit to exert on anybody in many months. “But you can tell Miss Gail about it afterwards, if you like, or you might tell me your littlest trouble and save your biggest one for Miss Gail.”
“I ain’t got but one,” responded the boy, and he looked searchingly into Arly’s black eyes. Her being pretty, like Gail, was a recommendation.
“There’s a kid over in Black Creek that I used to lick; but now he’s got me faded.”
From his intensity, this was a serious trouble, and Arly considered it seriously.
“Does he fight fairly?” she asked, and that one question alone showed that she knew the first principles of human life and conduct, which was rare in a girl or woman of any type.
He came a step closer, and looked up into her eyes with all his reservation gone.