"Viv said you were as pretty as a doll, but just as stiff and stuck-up," pronounced Willard sternly. "And your father's only the cashier of the bank, and just because the Everards have taken your mother up is no reason for her to put on airs and get a second girl and get into debt——"
He broke off, discouraged. Judith did not appear to hear him. After the masculine habit, as he could not control the situation, he rose to leave.
"Well, so long, kid. I've got to go to the post-office."
Even the mention of this desirable rendezvous, which was denied to her because Mollie always brought home the evening mail in a black silk bag, did not dim the dancing light in Judith's eyes. She put a hand on his sleeve.
"Willard——"
"Well, kid?"
"Willard, don't you wish I was going to-night?"
"What for, to fight the paddies, or carry the dark lantern?"
"I could fight," said Judith, with a little quiver in her voice, as if she could.
"Fight? You couldn't even run away. They'd"—Willard hissed it mysteriously—"they'd get you."