Bobbie thrust forth his hands.
“Yes, yes,” he breathed.
“Then from now on, from this minute, I’m going to work for you.”
Jinnie’s thoughts were on the shortwood strap, but she didn’t mention it. Oh, how she would work for money to give Peg with which to buy food! How happy she would be in the absolute ownership of the boy she had discovered in the hills! Tenderly she drew him to her. He seemed so pitifully helpless.
“How old ’re you?” she demanded.
“Nine years old.”
“You don’t look over five,” said Jinnie, surprised.
“That’s because I’m always sick,” explained the boy.
Jinnie threw up her head.
“Well, a girl sixteen ought to be able to help an awful little boy, oughtn’t she?... Here, I’ll put my arm round you, right like this.”