But the boy was tugging at her arm, and she guessed why.
“Those others,” the little fellow muttered, “they came this afternoon.”
“I know,” whispered Babs, “but it’s all right, they were just driving around——”
“Our way?” He couldn’t believe that. His voice said so.
“We were looking for candlesticks,” Cara chimed in. “Like those you sold to my brother.”
“I can get more,” answered Nicky brightly. Evidently the lure of selling the trinkets was enough to restore his confidence in Babs’ friends.
“Yes,” gushed Cara, taking advantage of the opportunity to cheer him up, and likewise to cheer Babs, “we want a lot of odd things and perhaps you can get them for us,” she suggested happily.
“I could,” declared Nicky. And now Babs knew that he no longer blamed her. He was just thinking of selling things and could not be thinking of her breach of his confidence.
She wanted so much to throw her arms around him and just squeeze love into his starved little childhood. She wanted to shout out in that dark night that he had risked his life to get oil for the lighthouse, she wanted to comfort that hurt little foot, even to fondle that injured hand—oh, if only she could do all or any of this!
But instead she must sit there quietly as the car rolled along, and perhaps Nicky would insist again on being let down “this side of the track.”