"Wasn't I one?" she insisted again.
He came back to himself with a shock—or away from himself, as the case happened. He was loth that the conversation should cease.
"What?" he answered. "Oh, yes; you bet you was a Samaritan, even if you didn't have no olive oil." He remembered what his mind had been dwelling on, and asked, "But ain't you afraid?"
She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Of ... of me?" he added lamely.
She laughed merrily.
"Mamma says never to be afraid of anything. She says that if you're good, and you think good of other people, they'll be good, too."
"And you was thinkin' good of me when you kept the sun off," he marvelled.
"But it's hard to think good of bees and nasty crawly things," she confessed.
"But there's men that is nasty and crawly things," he argued.