Blanche’s face grew slightly pale, for it certainly was not a very desirable position which she held at that moment, but her presence of mind did not forsake her, and in a coaxing way she said:
“What a pretty little pistol; will you let me see it?”
“Will you promise to give it back to me?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Let me shoot the head off that little bird first.”
“Please do not, some one might hear you.”
“Oh-h-h, yes, and then they would come after me. What is your name,” she asked, looking quickly around, “isn’t it——”
“What?” asked Blanche.
“Oh, I don’t dare to say; some other time maybe I will ask you about it.”
“My name is Blanche Elsworth. You may call me Blanche.”