"No, the boys say he never loses his temper. The rest of them do. I wish girls played football. I bet I'd make a good quarterback."
John laughed weakly but delightedly. "You must weigh fully a hundred pounds! Why, honey, they'd trample a hundred pounds to death!"
"They would not!" Lydia's voice was indignant. "And just feel my muscles. I get 'em from swimming."
John ran his hand over the proffered shoulders and arm. "My goodness," he said in astonishment. "Those muscles are like tiny steel springs. Well, what else would you like to be besides quarterback, Lydia?"
"When I was a little girl I was crazy to be an African explorer. And
I'd still like to be, only I know that's not sensible. Adam, for
Pete's sake get off my feet."
Adam gave a slobbery sigh and withdrew a fraction of an inch. Levine watched Lydia in the soft glow of the lamp light. Her hair was still the dusty yellow of babyhood but it was long enough now to hang in soft curls in her neck after she had tied it back with a ribbon. She was still wearing the sailor suits, and her face was still thin and childish for all she was a sophomore.
"I don't suppose you could explore," said Levine, meditatively.
"Oh, I could, if I had the money to outfit with, but I'll tell you what I really would like best of all." Lydia hitched her chair closer to Levine and glanced toward the kitchen where Lizzie was knitting and warming her feet in the oven. "I'd like to own an orphan asylum. And I'd get the money to run it with from a gold mine. I would find a mine in New Mexico. I know I could if I could just get out there."
"Seems to me all your plans need money," suggested John.
"Yes, that's the trouble with them," admitted Lydia, with a sigh. "And
I'll always be poor—I'm that kind."