Nella-Rose shook her head. “I would know!” she declared confidently. “I know everything that’s going on in the hills. Burke would let me know—first!”
“It’s like melodrama,” Truedale murmured half to himself. By some trick of fancy he seemed to be looking on as Brace Kendall might have. The thought brought him to bay. What would good old Brace do in the present situation?
“What is melodrama?” Nella-Rose never let a new word or suggestion escape her. She was as keen as she was dramatic and mischievous.
“It would be hard to make you understand—but see here”—Truedale drew the gunny sack to him—“I bet you’re hungry!” He deliberately put Brace from his thoughts.
“I reckon I am.” The lovely eyes were fixed upon the hand that was bringing forth the choicest morsels of the food prepared early that morning. As he laid the little feast before her, Truedale acknowledged that, in a vague way, he had been saving the morsels for Nella-Rose even while he had fed, earlier, upon coarser fare.
“I don’t know about giving you a chicken wing!” he said playfully. “You look as if you were about to fly away as it is—but unfortunately I’ve eaten both legs!”
“Oh! please”—Nella-Rose reached across the narrow space separating them, she was pleading prettily—“I just naturally admire wings!”
“I bet you do! Well, eat plenty of bread with them. And see here, Nella-Rose, while you are eating I’m going to read a story to you. It is the sort of thing that we call melodrama.”
“Oh!” This through the dainty nibbling of the coveted wing. “I’m right fond of stories.”
“Keep quiet now!” commanded Truedale and he began the spirited tale of love and high adventure that, like the tidbits, he knew he had brought for Nella-Rose!