"Sure," he laughed; "I wouldn't waste your valuable time if it weren't."
She pouted.
"You think I have nothing to do, I suppose, Mr. Nelson!"
Evan was Mr. to her chiefly because he was a bankclerk.
"Oh no, not that. But you don't seem to be cut out for a post-office ornament. Do you ever feel dissatisfied here?"
"Why?"
"I was just wondering—I'm beginning to get sick of it myself."
She laughed.
"So am I," she said; "and it's my home, too."
She had settled down on the grass, and her eyes were on a level with the bankclerk's.