But this trait of Ann’s flattered and delighted Truedale; often he was amused, but he knew that it was the one thing above all else in the little girl that endeared her to him.
“What a darling she is!” he often said to Lynda when they were alone together. “Is she ever naughty?”
“Yes, often—the monkey!”
“I’m glad to hear it. I hate a flabby youngster. Does she ever speak of her little past, Lyn?”
“Never.”
“Isn’t that strange?”
“Yes, but I’m glad she doesn’t. I want her to forget. She’s very happy with us—but she’s far from perfect.” “To what form of cussedness does she tend, Lyn? With me she’s as lamblike as can be.”
“Oh! she has a fiery temper and, now that I think of it, she generally shows it in reference to you.”
“To me?” Truedale smiled.
“Yes. Thomas found her blacking your shoes the other day. She was making an awful mess of it and he tried to take them from her. She gave him a real vicious whack with the brush. What she said was actually comical: ’He’s mine; if I want to take the dirt from his shoes, I can. He shan’t walk on dirt—and he’s mine!’”