Roxy’s face went a deep crimson. “You lay off that,” he said angrily. “This kid’s simple, see? I ain’t standin’ for any of that stuff.”
Dillon stood looking at him, his face sullen. “Aw, go an’ play dolls,” he sneered. “You give me a pain.”
He stood looking after them as they wandered away into the woods.
After two days on the farm Dillon was nearly crazy. He was nervous of walking too far from the thick woods. He was sick of sitting inside watching old man Chester, or listening to Ma Chester singing her son’s praise.
Roxy, for something better to do, had turned his attention to the farm. Dillon was too lazy to do that. Chrissie followed Roxy about like a dog. She had got over her first shyness and Roxy quite liked her. She was amused at most things he said, which flattered him, and she helped him with the work on the farm.
He was quite startled at her strength. She would think nothing of shifting heavy sacks or logs of wood, that made Roxy sweat to move. Under his directions, put in the simplest way, she carried out quite a programme. Sometimes she got bored and began to fool, then Roxy took her off for a walk.
Dillon watched them contemptuously. He made no attempt to join them. Roxy never discussed her when they were alone. Chrissie went to bed around eight o’clock, arid Roxy and Dillon played cards monotonously into the night.
It was Sunday, and Dillon was jittery. Joe Chester was coming out, and he’d have news. Cut away from the radio and the newspapers, neither of the men knew what was going on. Even Roxy couldn’t get up any enthusiasm to play with Chrissie. He hung around the shack doing odd jobs, his eye on the dirt road.
It was after ten o’clock when Joe turned up. He came bumping along the dirt road in a new car. He looked mighty pleased with himself.
Chrissie was the first to spot him, and she lumbered down the road to meet him. Joe stopped the car and let her get in.