"Why—she must be grown up by this time," surmised Jimmy. "It was mighty fine of you, Mr. Hunt, to do what you did! I'd kind of like to see her again some day. But maybe she'd rather not," he added quickly.
"Well," said Jimmy, "she had a pretty raw deal on Birch Street. Seeing me—might bring back things?"
"It couldn't," I reassured him. "Susan has never let go of them. She uses all her experience, every part of it, every day."
Jimmy grinned again. "It must keep her hustling! But she always was different, I guess, from the rest of us." With a vague wonder, he addressed us both: "You think a lot of her, don't you?"
For some detached, ironic god this moment must have been exquisite. I envied the god his detachment. The blank that had followed his question puzzled Jimmy and turned him awkward. He fidgeted with his feet.
"Well," he finally achieved, "I guess I'd better be off, professor. I'll think over all you said."
"Do," counselled Phil, rising, "and come to see me to-morrow. We mustn't let you take a false step if we can avoid it."
"It's certainly great of you to show so much interest," said Jimmy, hunching himself at last out of his chair. "I appreciate it a lot." He hesitated, then plunged. "It's been well worth it to me to come East again—just to meet you."
"Nonsense!" laughed Phil, shepherding him skillfully toward the door. . . .