Her eyes were fixed upon the fish which she felt were the only ones she could get now. If she let them go, her opportunity would be lost and her good offices in Kizzie's behalf fruitless, so she gasped hurriedly, "Say!"
The boy had noticed the little girl standing like a statue gazing up the street. He had given her a glance as he approached but her eyes were intent upon the fish; he was going on his way, half glad to escape notice when he heard her feeble call.
He came to a standstill.
"Did you speak to me?"
His voice sounded strangely familiar to Alene. Hastily looking from the fish to their owner, she encountered a pair of frank, gray eyes, whose rather deep setting and coal black brows gave the whole face an odd, but singularly attractive expression.
She recognized him at once.
"Why, is it you?" she exclaimed, in a startled voice.
The boy flushed.
"Don't be scared—I won't rob you," he said, with a note of vexation that recalled Alene to herself.
"I must have appeared ridiculous standing here looking half scared to death," she thought.