“Ah,” said Alison, “don’t you see the emigrants lying about the flags?”
“They’re the background for the picture,” said Kit. “When I think about the waiting-room, the crowd is indistinct.”
Alison gave him a friendly smile. “You cheated me on the train. You forced me to take your sleeper ticket, and I did not pay for half the food. Yet all you had was five dollars.”
“You didn’t get half the food,” Kit rejoined. “Perhaps I was not quite honest about the ticket, but I admitted my dishonesty before.”
“Well, I oughtn’t to be embarrassed because you were kind; but I didn’t know, and, by contrast, I was rich. Besides, I was going to Florence, and you had not a friend.”
“I had my fiddle, and the trail was open. I’d wanted to be a minstrel and I got my chance, but I admit I didn’t reckon on fiddling for the cook.”
“In a way, it was humorous,” said Alison in a gentle voice. “When Austin told me I laughed, but I wasn’t altogether amused. Sometimes one laughs when one is sorry. Yet I liked to think about your getting up at daybreak and playing for the men. You see, Austin talked about you; he knew I was interested.”
Kit was rather embarrassed. Alison had followed his adventures, but he had not bothered to find out about her. All the same, he had wanted to find out. The obstacle was, he was going to marry Evelyn, and he was flesh and blood.
“I’d sooner you told me something about yourself,” he said.
Alison indulged him. She had found a post at a creamery. On the whole, she liked the post and the pay was good. That was all. When she stopped Miss Grey came in.