“Did they save little Emil Olsen?”
And when she told them how he had attacked, singlehanded, the whole twenty-four fighting men, Billy's face glowed with appreciation.
“The little cuss!” he said. “That's the kind of a kid to be proud of.”
He halted awkwardly, and his very evident fear that he had hurt her touched Saxon. She put her hand out to his.
“Billy,” she began; then waited till Mary left the room.
“I never asked before—not that it matters... now. But I waited for you to tell me. Was it...?”
He shook his head.
“No; it was a girl. A perfect little girl. Only... it was too soon.”
She pressed his hand, and almost it was she that sympathized with him in his affliction.
“I never told you, Billy—you were so set on a boy; but I planned, just the same, if it was a girl, to call her Daisy. You remember, that was my mother's name.”