What Lydia could not at this time appreciate was the fact that Billy's gray eyes were remarkable in the clarity and steadiness of their gaze, that his square jaw and mobile mouth were full of fine promise for his manhood and that even at sixteen the framework of his great body was magnificent.
He never had paid any attention to Lydia before and she was bashful toward the older boys.
"Say, Lydia, want a brace of duck? A lot of them settled at Warm
Springs last night and I've got more than I can use."
He leaned his gun against the fence and began to separate two birds from the bunch hanging over his shoulder.
Lydia began to breathe quickly. The Dudleys could not afford a special
Christmas dinner.
"I—I don't know how I could pay you, Bill—"
"Who wants pay?" asked Bill, indignantly.
"I dasn't take anything without paying for it," returned Lydia, her eyes still on the ducks. "But I'd—I'd rather have those than a ship."
Billy's clear gaze wandered from Lydia's thin little face to her patched mittens and back again.
"Won't your father let you?" he asked.