“Because——” the voice had dropped many tones.
“Will any one hurt you if you don’t?” This was merely a chance question of Nora’s. She could not think quickly of just the right thing to say and was anxious to detain the child.
“Yes, no, maybe,” a shrug of the small shoulders proclaimed foreign mannerisms. Her dark eyes also bespoke the alien.
“Well, I won’t let anyone hurt you,” declared Nora bravely. “I’m a Girl Scout, do you know what that means?”
“Yes, I know. It means crazy,” promptly replied Lucia.
“Crazy?” Nora was somewhat taken back. Then it dawned upon her that foreigners had a way of saying things—perhaps—“crazy” meant something else to the child.
“Why do you say ‘crazy’?” Nora asked next.
“Oh, they dress funny, and they run all over and they climb trees like—crazy,” said Lucia. Nora saw she was correct in her free translation. Crazy was a comprehensive term to Lucia.
“Don’t you like them, the Scouts?” pressed Nora.
“The little one—I like. The big ones chase me one day,” came the indifferent answer. “I have to go, I must run sure now,” declared Lucia, putting out her small hands to make a hole in the bushes through which to escape.