He drew her hands from his shoulders, and as he did so she threw back her head and half affectionately, half defiantly whispered, “Ain’t you goin’ to kiss me—jest once—afore you go?”
The appeal of her tearful eyes and upturned, trembling lips, half pouting with a thirst inexplicable to her, found answer as he stooped and kissed her with grave tenderness.
“Good-bye, Swickey. I’m going to-night, if Cameron will take me through to Tramworth. The letter he brought has changed my plans. Of course I’ll see you again, but this is our real good-bye, little girl.”
“I’m fifteen anyway,” she replied, smiling through her tears.
“I’ll send you a birthday present when I get home. How would you like a nice, woolly, white mackinaw coat, with little blue squares round the edges? I know where I can get one.”
“Oh, heaps!” she exclaimed rapturously. “Will you?”
“As sure as you’re Swickey!”
She watched him as he hurried toward the dam where her father and Curious Jim were vehemently discussing the new railroad. Something white lay on the floor at her feet. She picked it up and studied the address on the envelope. It was Bascomb’s letter to David. Intending to return it to him when he came back, she placed it on the clock-shelf and busied herself with the daily routine of housekeeping.
Cameron’s fist was in the air as David came to where Avery and he stood.
“I seen ’em as plain as I see Dave Ross a-comin’,” he asserted.