"The brave little gipsy!" thought Jack. He gave her a kindly glance, noting with an insight gained by his late acquaintance with pain, the marks of suffering always so pathetic on a childish face.
"Things like this teach us a lot, don't you think? I feel as if I'd become quite old, tied so long to a sofa, like a thing-um-bub—those lace affairs the girls make, you know—"
"A tidy?"
"Untidy I call 'em, always sticking to a fellow's coat! If it wasn't for the Torchlights, I'd have gone all to pieces."
Ivy started, but curbing her curiosity and profiting by Laura's experience she merely repeated,
"The—the Torchlights?"
"Yes, our club, you know."
Ivy felt that Jack was ready and willing to enlarge upon the theme; she chuckled inwardly, gleefully anticipating the tale she would have for the other girls.
Alas, at that moment Jed came up the stairs with a large pitcher of lemonade and glasses on a tray, and Kizzie followed with a huge frosted cake.
"We thought you would like this, along with the sunset," she said.