She smiled vaguely, studying him under her long, dark lashes. The boy came into the room, holding his hands behind him, and stood with his sturdy legs braced apart, staring at Rathburn.
“There he is now!” Rathburn exclaimed. “Did you try to wash the freckles off?” he queried with a wink.
“I know who you are!” said the boy. There was admiration and awe in his wide eyes.
Rathburn looked at him closely, his brows wrinkling.
“Yes, I do,” said the boy, nodding. “Did he tell you who he is, sis?” he asked, looking at the girl.
“Now, Frankie, we don’t care who the man is,” she reproved. “He was hungry and he’s welcome. What’s the matter with you?”
“I guess you’d be surprised if you knew as much as I do,” the boy boasted. “I guess you’d be surprised all right. I do.”
“I’ve been surprised more than once at things you knew,” the girl said with a laugh.
“Yes, but I guess you’d be surprised all right if you knew who he is,” cried the boy, pointing at Rathburn.
“Come, now, young fellow, don’t be getting all het up here,” said Rathburn slowly, drawing tobacco and papers from his shirt pocket. “What do you find to do with yourself around here?”