“Our game wasn't mixed up.” She was thinking of the one to which the widow had objected. “Is it promiscuous to catch somebody?”
“It depends upon whom you catch,” he answered with a dry, whimsical smile.
“Well, I don't catch anybody but the children.” She looked up at him with serious, inquiring eyes.
“Never mind, Polly. Your games aren't promiscuous.” She did not hear him. She was searching for her book.
“Is this what you are looking for?” he asked, drawing the missing article from his pocket.
“Oh!” cried Polly, with a flush of embarrassment. “Mandy told you.”
“You've been working a long time on that.”
“I thought I might help you if I learned everything you told me,” she answered, timidly. “But I don't suppose I could.”
“I can never tell you how much you help me, Polly.”
“Do I?” she cried, eagerly.