"Not a mite. Real glad to have her."
"Very well, then she may stay—an hour, but no longer. Mind, Babby, dear, I am relying on you not to annoy Mr. Winslow."
So the juvenile visitor stayed her hour and then obediently went away, in spite of Jed's urgent invitation to stay longer. She had asked a good many questions and talked almost continuously, but Mr. Winslow, instead of being bored by her prattle, was surprised to find how empty and uninteresting the shop seemed after she had quitted it.
She came again the next day and the next. By the end of the week Jed had become sufficiently emboldened to ask her mother to permit her to come in the afternoon also. This request was the result of a conspiracy between Barbara and himself.
"You ask your ma," urged Jed. "Tell her I say I need you here afternoons."
Barbara looked troubled. "But that would be a wrong story, wouldn't it?" she asked. "You don't really need me, you know."
"Eh? Yes, I do; yes, I do."
"What for? What shall I tell her you need me for?"
Jed scratched his chin with the tail of a wooden whale.
"You tell her," he drawled, after considering for a minute or two, "that I need you to help carry lumber."