So she had reasoned his predicament out without asking any of the questions that another girl would have heaped upon him.
He turned to her suddenly with a fresh spark of interest in his eyes.
11“How did you know that I didn’t belong here?” he demanded.
The corners of her lips curled upward in a comical little grimace of amusement, and he realized that before they had been set in a straight line far too mature for her evident youth.
“No grown men ’round these parts wears short pants, an’, anyhow, I knew you were different from the way you talk; somethin’ like the welfare workers, with the hell an’ brimstone left out,” the girl replied soberly. “I’m goin’ to talk like you some day.”
It was the first remark she had made voluntarily concerning herself, and he was quick to seize his advantage.
“Who are you, young lady? You’ve been awfully kind to me, and I don’t know to whom my gratitude is due.”
“Not to anybody.” She turned her head away slightly, but not before he saw a flush mount beneath the superficial coating of freckles, and marveled at the whiteness of her skin. Hers was not the leathery tan of the typical farmer’s daughter, inured to all 12weathers, yet her hands, although small, were toil-worn, and there was an odd incongruity between her dark eyes and the pale, flaxen hue of that ridiculous wisp of a braid.
“I didn’t do any more for you than I’d do for a dog if I found him lyin’ there.”
Her naïve sincerity robbed the statement of its uncomplimentary suggestion, and the young man chuckled, but persisted.