“He said he wished I was younger so he could strap me.”
Mrs. Trevor did not smile. Then to Connie’s consternation, he knew that Mrs. Trevor was wiping a tear from her cheek.
“But that wasn’t all,” Connie added hastily. “He told me how he had hoped I wouldn’t grow up like that. I told him I was sorry,” and Connie’s voice quivered a little. “Anyway I can’t go near the river again this summer—fishin’ nor swimmin’ nor nothin’.”
“With whom were you fighting?” went on Mrs. Trevor.
At this question Connie twisted his cap, looked up in confusion and then at the floor in silence.
“You don’t want to tell?”
“No’m.”
“Didn’t Marshal Walter ask you?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you going to tell him when he does?”